


Adventures with the Midgardian Fool

by BlueRaven666



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Cussing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship/Love, Other, Swearing, The Author Regrets Nothing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-03-21 02:12:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 85,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13730940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueRaven666/pseuds/BlueRaven666
Summary: Slight AU from Dark World. Loki finds himself back on Midgard, his magic and godlike abilities limited, banished, and alone. When a chance encounter with a Midgardian leads him to living with him, can Loki find it in himself to let go of his past ambitions and start anew, or is this doomed to fail like everything else? Loki X OC.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER!
> 
> This was the first and is the only idea I have for a Loki fanfic. I've tried looking up similar stories, and have found nothing! So I'm either looking in the wrong place, or it's just not a perspective many authors choose to put on here.
> 
> This story is going to combine elements of what goes on in my everyday life while incorporating the characters and storylines from the Thor and Avengers movies. For that reason, full names, specific locations, names of businesses, ect. will be changed, if not completely left out. The people whom I'll be mentioning in this story have consented my doing so, and I am touching base with them regularly to see if any changes need to be made before a chapter is published.
> 
> I'm writing this story for the following reasons: A.) It's completely unique in style compared to my other stories. B.) The whole plot of it has kind of been killing me for the past two weeks. And C.) As a tribute to my fellow writer S.A. Supernova on Wattpad, who committed suicide this past May. She did a similar story involving Doctor Who, and she got the story published into an actual book! Needless to say I'm proud of her for her bravery and determination, and I like to think that she'd be cheering me on with this story if she were still with us.
> 
> As an added note, I will be putting little disclaimers at the end of chapters just to sort out some facts and fables I might have slipped in. I hope this story will turn out as one of my greatest, and that it'll help you, the followers who have stuck with me these past 4 years of writing, and the followers who may have only discovered me just the other day, get to know me a bit better. Walk a mile in my shoes, if you will.
> 
> Enjoy the story!
> 
> -BlueRaven 666

"I was sent here to inform you that the queen has died."

I nodded dismissively to show the guard I had heard what he said, though I don't think I truly started to grasp his words until I heard his footsteps fade down the corridor.

Frigga was dead.

My mother was dead.

_"Frigga is the only reason you're still alive, and you'll never see her again..."_

Odin's words came flooding back to me, and that's when it became real. No matter how many illusions of herself she might have sent me, no matter how often I heard her soothing, gentle voice in my head in the quiet of my cell, it wasn't real. The illusions faded at the slightest touch, and the voices faded away into the silence. She was never truly there. It was merely her shadow, and that's when it really hit me. I was never going to see Frigga again.

In a manner that was all too calm, I closed the book I had been reading and placed it on the stool beside me. Before I knew it, I'd gotten up from my chair and was facing in the direction where Frigga and I had last talked. It may have been an illusion, it may not have been real, but what I'd give to have even that now.

_"He's not my father!"_

I will never forget the expression of pain that slowly settled onto her face.

_"Then am I not your mother?"_

_"You're not."_

It'd only been the last of my arrogance fueling those words, and now here I was regretting them. Wishing I could take them back, if only to see Frigga one last time. Be it her sending me an illusion, or holding me in her arms the way she had not so long ago. Anything if only I could apologize.

All it took was a burst of magic to send everything in my cell flying against the walls. Chairs tipped, tables flipped, and books scattered. The only things left standing really was my bed and an end table. Looking at it all didn't make me feel any less angry at myself, because it was Frigga that had all of this brought down to me so I wouldn't spend the last four thousand years or so of my life wasting away on a bare white floor.

But who was I fooling?

It was all I deserved now.

I'm not exactly sure when I stopped. There were no windows or doors to look out of to let me know if it was night or day. All I knew is that I didn't stop until everything had been destroyed, including myself; my hair a mess, my left foot stinging and hurting something fierce, what little I'd been allowed of my robes discarded, leaving me in nothing but a simple pair of black pants and a basic green shirt.

I pressed my back against the far wall of my cell and slid down until I was sitting amongst the ruins of my furniture. The rage still burned inside me like an inferno, but my hands trembled with a fury I had never seen, and with my foot injured I doubt I was going to be able to stand up straight.

_"You might want to take the stairs to the left..."_

I screamed.

I screamed with a seething hatred I'd never uttered before, not caring who might be watching or listening. This was my fault. Frigga was dead, I'd never be able to apologize for the things I'd said, I was never going to see her again, and it was all. My. Fault. Take the stairs to the left. Brilliant advice, Loki! Let's just help the Kursed escape and kill everybody in his path! Really fucking brilliant!

I screamed until I could scream no more, my throat burning as I finally let out a flustered huff and stared daggars into the floor that was blemished with splinters of wood from chairs and tables, smudged with dirt, and stained with blood that'd come from the cut in my foot. I didn't care. I was no longer considered a prince, just another prisoner. Whatever condition my cell or my self was in was no longer of any importance.

It wasn't like I was going to be receiving visitors anyway.

Closing my eyes, I leaned my head back against the wall and tried to calm down. I didn't want to think. I didn't want to feel. I didn't want to spent centuries regretting what could have been.

Maybe... just maybe... I could sleep these years away...

* * *

Ow... ow... ugh... ow...

It was the same thing every day. Sunday through Thursday nights, eleven to seven, eight hours on my feet, always moving, always bending, always lifting. Granted, working janitorial in a factory these past six months left me in less pain than it did the first, but it didn't leave me feeling any less tired when I got out.

And my day was far from over.

I made the long, tiring walk across the parking lot to my car, spamming the unlock button on the remote to my keys all the way. Curse the parking lot for being so big. Curse the lack of parking spots that were close to the door. Curse Ben for insisting we leave at ten, instead of getting there earlier to claim a closer parking spot. And curse myself for making myself so freaking tired.

There was a bright side to this situation. It was Friday morning; my weekend. The down side? It promised to be a busy weekend. Not full of dishes or laundry or trying, and failing, to tidy up the apartment like usual. This was the weekend of Shuto Con.

No amount of exhaustion, aches, and pains could talk me out of going to the single most greatest convention I've been able to attend. Even if it meant I was going to have to drive a half hour to pick up my friend Morgan, and even if it meant driving another hour and a half to actually get to the convention itself. Waiting somewhere amongst the miles and the frustrating city traffic was a hotel room and a bed with my name on it, and I was bound to pass out the moment my head hit the pillow.

I let out a relieved sigh as I sat down in my car. Sitting. Sitting was good. The pain that had been attacking my legs, back, and hips vanished. My feet were relieved, as well, but I still felt a stabbing pain shoot through my right foot as the sole of my shoe brushed against a corn. I dreaded what that was going to feel like during the convention.

As I started up my car, a looming shadow appeared in my passenger side window and opened the door. At least I wasn't going to be waiting for him for twenty minutes this time.

"Bruh..." I huffed, lighting a cigarette, jolting a bit as he sat down.

Ben was a big guy; easily half a foot taller than me, stocky, and, appearence wise, really intimidating. The type of intimidating that scared pizza guys away from the front door, and made people think twice about pissing him off. But to me, he was my brother and my best friend. I trusted him above anyone else, and he trusted me. I was lucky.

 _Really_  lucky.

Because Ben was one guy I would not want to be on the wrong side of.

"Let's get the fuck outta here, man..." he sighed, shutting the door.

I chuckled, "You read my mind."

It was late March, and in Michigan the weather and road conditions were a gamble. It could be dry and clear, cold and rainy, or freezing and snowy. The saying goes, "If you don't like the weather in Michigan, wait five minutes. It'll change." and this time of the year that couldn't have been more true. The year before last, it was warm and sunny. Last year, it was cold and rainy. This year... it was grey, overcast, and cold. The forcast called for freezing rain. The type of weather that could be either freezing rain, rain, or a freaking blizzard.

For the love of God, I hoped there wasn't going to be a blizzard.

"Is your cosplay all ready to go?" Ben asked me as we pulled out.

"You know it!" I replied, shaking with excitement, "Tsukiyama is ready to roll!"

Ben laughed, "You're obsessed."

And that I was. Find a character that's weird, flamboyant, misunderstood, or voiced by J. Michael Tatum, and it's a safe bet that I'll be obsessed with them. Shuu Tsukiyama just happened to be a twisted combination of all of these things. I was doomed from the moment I started watching Tokyo Ghoul. Ben often poked fun at my obession with certain fictional characters; most of his jests being sexual. There were times when I really couldn't deny it. Not because I  _would_ , but because Ben literally wouldn't let me deny it. After being cut off so many times with skeptical stares and ungodly sounds that only Ben seemed to know how to produce, I just stopped trying and rolled with it. Just for shits and giggles.

I had everything I needed for my cosplay; the bright purple wig, a matching suit, a blood red dress shirt, a black tie, dress shoes, and, to top it all off, even the bloody handkerchief. I was proud of it, for sure, and last year it was so popular that I almost couldn't keep up with the photos. Killed my feet in the process, but it was well worth it, and I was hoping it would be the same this year.

The drive to Morgan's was relatively quiet, save for Ben laughing periodically at Facebook memes and me getting cut off at every other intersection. Probably the shittiest thing about working thirds: morning traffic. Correction; morning traffic  _in Michigan_! A test of survival where the stop signs don't matter, and the freeway equals  _death_! At least with me behind the wheel.

Picking up Morgan was probably the next most stressful thing I had to experience. I was hoping she'd be ready to roll, waiting for us in front of her house. My hopes had gotten way too high as we walked into her room to find her still under the covers and the alarm she had set on her phone blaring. The next fifteen minutes were a blur of clothes flying and bags being packed. Under any other circumstances, I would have just chilled out on the couch and had another smoke, but doing so meant running the risk of falling asleep, and we had another long, pain-in-the-ass drive ahead of us.

Finally, after a lot of pacing and worrying, and time checking, Ben and Morgan came flying down the stairs. We bolted out the door and practically threw ourselves into the car.

"What time did you say registration opened at the convention?" Morgan asked, settling herself into the massive garbage heap that was my back seat.

"Nine," I replied as we tore out of the driveway, "So in about thirty minutes."

"That's not too bad," Ben said nonchalantly.

Not too bad? The lines were going to be insane! And the traffic...  _Oh, God_! I kept my mouth shut about it, though. I was always the worrywart of our little group, and I was sure saying something would have lead to some very sarcastic remarks from Ben. Besides, I was more concerned about getting to our hotel room and going to bed, and check-in didn't open until eleven anyways. Literally, all I could do to calm myself down is tell myself that there was time.

The drive to Lansing was the same as the drive to Morgan's; long, quiet, and full of morons that didn't know how to drive. The only thing that managed to calm my nerves all the way down was the less than healthy McDonald's breakfast we picked up on the way. Let's face it; hot cakes and milkshakes made eveything better.

We reached our hotel's location a little past ten-thirty, so I opted to drop Ben and Morgan off at the convention and I would go back and get our room, hopefully without getting lost. They agreed, and we were off again. I'd been concerned for a while that Ben would be too tired to go to Shuto right after getting out of work, but he was stubborn. He'd sooner let himself drop dead before he skipped out on seeing the other cosplays and the convention's events, especially since he had his girl at his side. This would be Morgan's first anime convention. She wasn't even really into anime, and her eyes were lit up like it was Christmas day.

We knew we were getting close to the convention center when the ordinary dull colors of the city were exchanged for the exotic, vibrant colors of cosplay wigs and garments that were so bright, they looked as animated as they did in their respected shows. Armor, wings, otherworldly weapon props, suits, and gowns highlighted the sidewalks and crosswalks as far as the eye could see. They appeared in car windows, and poured out of taxis, and we knew we were at the right place.

"You sure you don't want to come inside and register first?" Ben asked me, once I had found a suitable parking space, which had been easier said than done.

"I'm sure," I replied tiredly, "I wanna catch some Z's first."

Ben shot me a mocking grin, jutting out his chin and looking down at me, his eyes straining as if they were struggling to peer around his jaw.

"The Erai is the sleepy!" he squeaked out.

I couldn't help but laugh,

"Yes, the Erai is the sleepy."

"You know where you're going?"

"Yeah, I was keeping track of the turns we made on the way here."

I lied. I wasn't paying attention to the turns. I had only been trying to look out for the idiot that had been in front of me the whole time, slamming on his breaks because he didn't know where to turn off at. It was a miracle I hadn't rear ended him. The only thing that was keeping my nerves together was the fact that I knew what road our hotel was at, and I had my GPS.

"Alright," Ben said, turning towards the doors to the convention center, "Let us know when you get there."

"I will," I said, "I'll give you guys the room number, too."

Ben nodded in agreement before launching himself out of the car with Morgan in tow. Once they were in the convention center and out of sight, I pulled out my phone and entered the name of our hotel into Google Maps. Luckily, there was only one Blue Roof Inn in the area; 2.2 miles away, seven minutes by car, or fourty five minutes on foot. No way in Hell I was walking for fourty five minutes around downtown Lansing just to get to the hotel. Knowing my luck, I'd be pickpocketed, jumped, and mugged all within the same mile.

At least in my car, I could run the bastards over if they tried.

The Blue Roof Inn wasn't all that hard to find. It was the only hotel in the area that had a blue roof. Even a blond like me couldn't miss it. Check-in went smoothly, and in no time I was given a key card and wandering aimlessly through the halls searching for my room. Room 204. I had to laugh to myself, as I'd been given the same room number as that of my apartment.

After much walking and seaching and getting turned around, I finally,  _finally_ found the room. Now damn it all to Hell if the keycard decided it didn't want to work. I ran the card through the slot, and the light lit up a pleasantly vibrant green.

_Thank God!_

I turned the handle and stepped inside. The first thing that my eyes settled on was one of the full-sized beds, neatly made with fluffy pillows.

_Thank God!_

Throwing the bags to the ground, I took off my coat, kicked off my shoes, and practically threw myself on top of one of the beds. My head sank into the pillows, and almost immediately I started to feel myself drift off to sleep.

_Thank God..._


	2. Chapter 1: Loki

"What the Hel is this?"

I always knew Midgard was a peculiar place, but I'd never seen anything like this. Humans with hair in the brightest shades of colors I'd ever seen, and clothes so bright I think they were glowing. I was on Midgard, right? That's where Odin said I was to be banished to? And I believed myself to be there until I stumbled upon... _this._ Was this a Midgardian tradition that I was not yet familiar with, or had the Allfather just fooled me into believing that I was going there?

The Allfather fool me? Ha! That'll be the day...

Granted, my banishment was only temporary; lasting only a year, or until someone decided to drag me home. And the way Thor could hover over me like a mother hen, I wouldn't be surprised if he showed up within the next day or two to check up on me. See if I was behaving. Even so, being thrown into the passage with little more than the clothes on my back was more than a little daunting. Now I knew how Thor had felt when he had been banished. Angry, frustrated, alone; it was a terrible feeling, and for my crimes on Midgard, it was a very fitting punishment. Though, I had to wonder why Odin felt like it was a good idea for me to return to Earth. At the very least, I expected to be banished to Jotunheim; cast out to the desolate wasteland where I was born.

I looked around, trying to figure out what was going on here. It was still cold as winter tried fade into spring, but none of the people I saw seemed to be dressed for such weather. Many women wore revealing dresses and skirts, exposing so much skin, yet not letting out so much as a shiver from the cold. Others were dressed in attire that covered them, but looked to be so thin that there was no way their clothing could be keeping any heat in. Yet, despite all of this, no one was cold, or if they were, they weren't showing it.

I stopped a man, a warrior I assumed, clad in armour as he marched past me. He looked like someone who could provide some answers as to what was going on here.

"Pardon me, but what exactly is this?" I inquired.

The warrior shot me a confused look.

"What do you mean, dude?" he asked, "You look like you're all set for Shuto."

I looked myself over. My armour was just the same as it had been at my sentencing. The warrior's statement only intensified my confusion, but there was no mistaking the lack of formality in his voice. I was definitely on Midgard.

"I am Loki, of Asgard," I explained, "and I always dress like this..."

The warrior grinned and nodded acknowledgingly, "Sweet, man..."

That was his only response before he turned and walked away. I didn't know whether to feel enraged or just disappointed. Back in New York, my presence had brought up a certain sense of fear, desperation in the case of those so-called 'Avengers'. On Asgard, people were wary in my presence, cautious that they were about to be the next victim to one of my tricks or illusions; reactions that were all the more fun for me to watch in the end, whether I was truly up to something or not. But just now, I felt that I had been the victim of a trick. A Midgardian dismissing my presence like it was nothing, like I was little more than a bit of trash left on the sidewalk. It was degrading.

I took note of how all of these vibrantly colored people seemed to come and go consistently from one large building. Seems like that's where all of this was concentrated. Maybe someone inside could explain what was going on better than that useless warrior could.

Before I could set foot inside, however, a woman with dark skin dressed in a pale blue uniform stopped me.

"Badge please."

Her voice was harsh and demanding. Dare I say it'd be intimidating if not for the fact that she only stood up to my chest.

My face twisted in confusion, "I beg your pardon?"

"You need a badge to be able to attend the convention. Do you have yours?"

"No."

"Then you'll have to go across the street to the Radisson and get in line at registration in order for me to let you in."

"Do you have any idea who I am?" I snapped, "I am Loki Odinson, the God of a Mischief, and I demand that you let me pass!"

"And I'm the security guard that's going to taze your ass if you take one step through this door! Either go to the Radisson and get your badge, or go home!"

"You _dare_ theaten me?!"

"Or do you want me to get the police down here so they can escort your ass out, _you're highness_?"

Suddenly, a passerby stopped in front of us, "Let's not..."

This Midgardian may not have been dressed up in exoctic garments of unnatural colors, but he'd definitely stand out in a crowd. He may have been shorter than myself by a few inches, but he still towered over the security guard. His hair was so blond, it was nearly white, and his eyes were a piercing shade of blue. He was paler than most, as if his skin hadn't seen the sun in years.

"This is Shuto Con," he continued, "It's the one weekend where we get to go out, have fun, and be ourselves without anyone else judging us."

"I get that!" the security guard snapped, "I've been working this convention for three years now, but I don't like his attitude!"

The man's eyes turned to me and looked me over, "Do you have a badge?"

I let out a frustrated sigh, "No, I do not."

"Do you know where registration is?"

"No."

The man nodded and then turned back to the security guard, "I'll take him. Don't worry about it."

"Good," she growled, "Make sure you wash his mouth out with soap while you're at it!"

Letting out a chuckle, the man gestured for me to follow him inside.

"I thought I wasn't allowed to pass through these doors without a badge," I told him sarcastically, crossing my arms.

"We're going to use the skywalk," he responded, "It's safer than trying to cross the street during the morning rush hour."

I followed him through the doors, shooting a triumphant smirk towards the security guard as I passed. She looked about ready to throw me into the road, and she cursed something under her breath as we turned a corner.

"You know where we're going, correct?" I asked.

"Yeah," the man replied, "This isn't my first time going to Shuto."

"Good, then maybe you'll be more helpful in providing me answers than anyone else has been thus far." I stopped him as we approached another door, "Where am I? What is this place?"

The man gave me a skeptical, alomst concerned look, "You mean you really don't know?"

I rolled my eyes, "If I did, I wouldn't be asking."

"Alright... you, good sir, are in Lansing, Michigan; the lower peninsula. The Mitten, as we call it. This is the Lansing Center, and this is Shuto Con; a convention that typically centers around anime, but can apply to TV shows, movies, video games, and other forms of entertainment. Are you with me so far?"

"I think so..."

Honestly, I wasn't. I was familiar with television and movies. The humans just seemed so content with whatever appeared on those dull-looking boxes; less boxes, nowadays, and more like boards, but I still had a hard time wrapping my head around the concept of video games. And anime? I hadn't a clue what that even was, but at least I knew exactly where I was and knew what was going on.

"So are these brightly colored outfits characters from those forms of entertainment?" I questioned as we continued onto the skywalk.

"Yup," the man answered, "They're called cosplays. The people wearing them do it to pay tribute to a certain character. The outfits and props can be bought online, but a lot of people choose to make them themselves."

"Ah, so none of the armour or weapons are real, then?"

"Nope. In fact, in most cases, they're actually really fragile. I've seen a lot of times where a cosplay doesn't hold up for the weekend."

"Weekend? You mean mortals take entire weekends to go to one of these conventions?"

"From Friday morning all the way to Sunday evening."

I was baffled. Not so much about the point to all of this, but by the fact that humans, with the little time they had in their short lifespans, spent whole weekends at such a pointless event. Then again, Asgardians had little room to talk, as they spent whole _weeks_ , if not _months_ celebrating battle victories, coronations, marriages, and so on. Even I grew sick of it, almost quite literally. Nobody could stomach that much food and wine. I would never understand how Thor, or anyone else on Asgard could.

"My name's Elijah, by the way," the man finally said, "but you can just call me Eli."

I nodded in acknowledgement, "I am Loki Odinson, of Asgard."

Eli paused and turned to me, smirking.

"You know, I applaud the fact that you've been able to stay in character this whole time," he said, "Like from when you were arguing with the security guard up until now, you haven't broken character _once_. That's dedication!"

I felt like he was trying to compliment me. He was complimenting me, but over all I just felt insulted. The good-for-nothing warrior, the mewling quim of a security guard, and now this guy? Did they not know a god when they saw one?

"I'm really Loki, the God of Mischief," I pressed, "This is not a... a... whatever you called it."

"Cosplay?" Eli finished, "It's okay, I get it. You don't feel like giving me your real name. That's okay. I mean, we did just meet like two minutes ago."

Hopeless.

That was fine, though. I knew how to get him back. Because there was one thing about this Midgardian fool that was throwing me off.

"Well, then is your name truly 'Elijah' as you say it is?"

Eli instantly froze, and that irritating smirk of his vanished.

"I mean, it's been throwing me off this entire time," I continued, a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth, "You look like a man, but you don't sound like one. You look like you're in your twenties, yet sound like boy who hasn't hit puberty yet. Is that really the case, or are you actually _a woman_?"

Eli's lips were pursed together so tightly, they turned an off shade of white. His blue eyes lit ablaze with fury. If looks could kill, I'm pretty sure I would have been dead many times over.

Finally, he exhaled audibly through his nose.

"Fine... you caught me."

I smiled wide, "So I was right?"

"In a sense. No, biologically I'm not a man. I'm trans; born a girl, but transitioning to become a boy. Albeit slowly. I'm aware that I don't exactly sound like a man, and some of my mannerisms could be considered a bit feminine, but I completely identify as a man, and would like to be referred to as such. Do that for me, and I'll agree to refer to you as 'Loki'. Deal?"

My smile hadn't faded. If anything, it'd grown wider. I didn't know a lot about Midgardians, other than that they were petty creatures with simple interests and lives that were there and gone in a heartbeat; severely dwarved by the five thousand year lifespans of Asgardians, but in recent years I had noticed something that had always amused me: the battle for power between those with conservative values, and the people refered to as LGBT members.

Personally, whether someone wanted to love a man or woman, or be a man or woman meant little to me. It was petty and completely up to the person on what they wanted to do. Hel, even I could shift my form into that of a woman if I wanted to. In my one thousand and fifty years of experience, even I had experimented a little bit. Perhaps beyond the extent of most humans, but I still understood. So for Elijah to be standing there, eyes burning, trying to prove something to me... I didn't care.

At least he'd be referring to me by my actual name.

"Alright, Thorberg," I agreed with a laugh, "We have a deal."

Eli's expression relaxed, and he let out a sigh as he stuck out his hand.

"I'm sorry I got worked up. Bad habit."

Was this guy serious? I could only think back to all the times I'd seen Thor get "worked up". All the times he had flipped the table in the dining hall, all the times he had sent me, or someone else to the Healers with deep wounds and broken bones, all the times I'd heard his screams of rage from the other side of the palace.

Eli had to be a really calm individual for his demands to be considered him getting "worked up".

I accepted the hand, and we shook on it, but I couldn't help but notice his tight grip and the firmness. This guy could probably give Thor a run for his money; Volstagg, at the very least.

"Are you cold?" Eli asked suddenly, "Your hands are freezing."

Shit! I had completely forgotten about that.

"Oh, no, I'm fine," I replied quickly, "Probably just from being outside, is all."

"Right, we should probably hurry to registration before the lines get too long."

"There are lines?"

"Yup, and they'll wrap around the block at some point. That's why it's a good idea to get there first thing in the morning."

It was the middle of the day. Gods, we'd be waiting for hours!

We hurried the rest of the way across the skywalk, our footfalls echoing down the long metal tube. There were windows on both sides, and as I looked down below I noticed that it was what was referred to as "bumper-to-bumper" traffic. Eli had been right. Taking the skywalk was a lot safer than trying to cross the street...

If I was being honest with myself, I was only trying to take my mind off of what'd just happened. My entire life, I'd always been the one with cold hands, the one who wasn't bothered by even the most bitter winters Asgard could conjure up, the one who didn't care nearly as much as most for the heat, and it was all because of my dirty little secret. I was a Jotun; a frost giant. Had I been in that grotesque form, a mere graze of my fingers would have burned Eli's skin black. Odds were he probably wouldn't want to be within fifty feet of me after that. Then again, very few wanted to be within fifty feet of me anyways.

"Excuse me..."

I stopped and turned as I felt a tap on my shoulder. A short girl with purple streaks in her hair stood there. Her legs and wrists were wrapped in purple and black striped fur, and a matching bushy tail was strapped to her rear. What sort of beast had she slain to aquire such furs?

"Can I take a picture of you?" she asked sheepishly.

I was about to protest when the memories came flooding back to me. All the times Thor had been pulled aside for pictures and portraits while I was made to stand aside came to mind.

_"I remember a shadow. Standing in the shade of your greatness."_

It was true. It'd always been true. Everyone worshipped Thor and disregarded my presence like I was little more than a servant. Now _I_ was the one being pulled aside. _I_ was the one getting asked for pictures. _I_ was the one, not Thor, and it felt _great_.

"Absolutely," I said, standing tall and shooting her a grin.

The girl, pulled out her cell phone, and I watched as her thumb hit the screen. And again. And again. I changed poses in time with her pictures. I was willing to bet ten photos had been taken before she finally put her peculiar electronic device back in her pocket.

"Thanks!" she squeaked, "You look awesome!"

"Well, I _am_ awesome," I countered, "And you're very welcome, mortal girl."

"So who are you supposed to be, anyways?"

Here we go again...

"I am Loki, of Asgard," I stated, idly wondering just how many times I was going to have repeat myself within the same hour.

"Like... the Norse god?"

"Yes! Yes! Finally, someone who knows who I am!"

The girl gave me a friendly smile, "Well, you're the best. Thanks again!"

She turned and walked off in the direction Elijah and I had come from while I basked in the beauty of her words.

I'm the best... _I'm_ the _best_!

"Get used to it," I heard Eli say as he walked up beside me, "Even if they don't know which fandom you're from, people are going to want to take pictures of you."

I turned to him, "But did you hear what she said? I'm the best."

Eli laughed, "Alright, Mr. Best, let's get our butts to registration before we have to wait outside."

* * *

Elijah hadn't been exaggerating when he spoke of the lines at Shuto Con. When we had finally gotten into the Radisson hotel and gotten in line, it was already wrapped around the walls of a large open space just outside the doors that led onto the room where registration was. I wouldn't have been the least bit surprised if it'd extended all the way to the hotel's front doors by now. What infuriated me about this was that the line had barely moved since we'd gotten there, and I was warm, tired, hungry, and running low on patience.

"We've been waiting... for _two hours!"_ I hissed angrily.

"Yup, I know," Eli said nonchalantly, so much so that it only seemed to add to my frustration. How was he so calm? _How_?

"Is a badge really worth all this nonsense?"

"If you want to be able to attend the convention without getting booted by the security guards, it is."

And that's when it hit me. It hit me harder than that dull creature known as 'the Hulk' ever could. I didn't want to attend this convention. The only reason I was here at all was because I'd been looking for answers, and Elijah had given me all the information I needed. There was no reason for my being here.

Still, it didn't mean that there weren't some things I still had to figure out. The clothes I wore, the last of my godly abilities, and the limited amount of magic I'd been allowed to leave Asgard with were all that I had. Once all of that was used up, I'd be no more than an ordinary man; no more spectacular than the average Migardian. I had no place to go, no way of getting anywhere, and no money to help myself along. I thought maybe if I'd found that Jane Foster, perhaps she'd allow me to stay until I'd found somewhere to go and some way to support myself, but it was a bit of a stretch. Who knows where she could be and if, after trying to kill Thor and his friends, she would even allow me to be within thirty feet of her.

I'd been left with nothing.

I glanced over to Eli and noted how he had his nose buried in his cell phone, "Who are you talking to?"

"Some friends of mine that came with me," he replied, "They're freaking out because they want to get something to eat, and they can't find me."

My mouth watered, "Something to eat does sound lovely right now."

"Do you want to come with, or do you want to stay here and get your badge?"

"To Hel with the badge. I have no need for it anyways."

"Are you sure? Because the line-"

"I said, 'To Hel with it'!" I said, raising my voice, "Hadn't originally planned to come to this wretched convention, anyways."

"Alrighty, then," Elijah muttered, sucking his teeth and producing a nervous click, "I'll let Ben and Morgan know we'll have one more joining us."

It was a pattern I was all too familiar with; tagging along with somebody else's friends, pretending they were my friends, for someone else's sake. Being the third wheel, fourth wheel, fifth wheel, and so forth that nobody paid any mind to me unless it was to jest. I hated it. I _hated_ it, but right now it was better than being left behind with nothing.

At least this was something. Normally I'd have better things to do than hang out with a bunch of mortals, but at this point I really didn't care. The heat from being crammed into a confined space with so many people was getting to me. Even Eli had sweat beading along the bridge of his nose and along his forehead. Finding a place to sit and something to eat and drink sounded heavenly.

We stepped out of line and began making our way to the skywalk. Just then the line shuffled forward.

"Of course _now_ line starts moving!" Eli grumbled sarcastically.

I wasn't listening. The sudden movement made my head spin, and I found myself clinging to the railing that overlooked the hotel lobby. The world became hazy and began to spin. I felt like I was going to be sick.

I felt Eli grip onto my shoulders, "Hey! You alright, Loki?"

Before I could muster up a response, my knees buckled and I hit the floor.

Then everything went black.

* * *

"What happened?"

"I'm not sure. He just kind of collapsed."

"Is he all right?"

"I don't know. He could be dehydrated or overheated."

"Should we call an ambulance, or something?"

"I think someone's already got 'em on the phone now."

The world came back slowly. The first thing that I was aware of was that I was lying down and had something soft tucked beneath my head. It was hot and my mouth was dry. My head felt like Thor had just given it a good beating with Mjolnir. I clenched my eyes tightly and let out a moan.

"Hang on. I think he's starting to snap out of it." A hand shook my shoulder, "Loki, can you hear me?"

My eyes blinked open. Elijah was knelt down beside me with two other people next him; a short girl with long, unnaturally blue hair, and a larger man with dark facial hair.

"Eli?"

The blond turned to his companions, "Can one of you get a bottle of water from my bag?"

"Sure thing," the larger man replied as he stepped away.

As my vision began to focus, I was able to make out that I was in a secluded corner in the hotel lobby. People peered around corners and from chairs trying to see what was going on, but made no move to investigate further. Many either stood there and stared, or continued on with their own business.

"What happened?" I groaned, trying to rub the remaining haziness away with a hand. Every movement seemed to make the temperature flare, weighing me down to the floor.

"You kind of passed out," Elijah replied, "And I don't think your armor helped with keeping you cool. You nearly tumbled over the railing. How do you feel?"

"Hot... dizzy..."

"Here," a large, cold bottle of water was placed in my hands, "Drink as much as you'd like."

And I did. Heavily; chugging down the refreshing fluid for everything it was worth. All at once, I felt my head clear and the temperature drop; a fantastic feeling. I didn't stop until the bottle was gone, and another appeared in my hands. I chugged that one down, too.

Eli turned away for a moment waving people away and telling others to cancel the ambulance.

"I wanna ask you some questions, just to make sure you're still with us," Eli said as he turned back to me, "Where are you?"

I had to think about it for a moment, but eventually I responded, "Michigan, at Shuto Con."

"Good, and who am I?"

"You're Elijah; the mortal who was helping me."

"Alright, and what were we doing before you passed out?"

"We were going to get something to eat."

"Yup, now who are you?"

"I'm Loki Odinson, of Asgard."

Eli laughed, "Oh, yeah. You're good!"

He extended a hand to me and helped me up off of the floor. I took a moment to use his shoulder to steady myself before he pulled away. I looked over to the two others accompanying Elijah, and took a step back. The man that had been standing next to the blue-haired girl was taller than me by a few inches. He was a big fellow, too; stocky, muscular. He made some Asgardians look like hacky sacks in tin cans.

"Loki, these are my friends, Ben and Morgan," Eli said, gesturing to them, "Morgan, Ben, this is Loki."

Ben looked me over with judgemental brown eyes, "He don't look like a dog."

Eli and Morgan laughed as I stared back in confusion.

"No, really. What's his name?" Ben asked, before I could inquire about his previous comment.

"Just... roll with it," Elijah giggled, "Where did we all want to go for lunch?"

"I was thinking we could go to Wendy's," Morgan piped up, "Or Stake N' Shake."

"We've still got food at the hotel room," Ben stated, "We should finish that off before we go."

"Oh, yeah..."

"Go?" I inquired, "Go where?"

"Today's going to be our last day here," Eli explained, "Ben and I have to go back to work tomorrow night."

I nodded in understanding, if not disappointment. These mortals were kind enough to help me, let me come with them for a meal, and then what? They were going to have to leave at some point anyways, and I doubted that they were going to help me as Jane had helped Thor, although if I was being honest with myself, I really wished someone would. I didn't want this to be a repeat of New York; ending up alone, getting my hands on an item of incredible power and destruction, and causing more trouble for myself. I was already going to be here for a year. Best to not add on to my sentence.

"So, to the hotel room, then?" Morgan asked.

"To the hotel room," Eli and Ben jeered. I thrust a fist up by means of joining in.

Eli turned to me, "How are you holding up, Loki?"

"Oh, I'm much better," I replied, handing the half empty bottle of water to him, "Thank you."

"No problem."

"Are you a Healer?" I asked, noting how he had helped me feel better in a matter of minutes.

"Um, no," he responded, likely not familiar with the term Healer being applied to his kind, "My mom's a medical assistant, and I did take a first-aid course a few years back, though.

"Well, I thank you again for helping me."

Eli smiled gratefully, "You're very welcome!"

Stepping out of the hotel, the four of us walked around the block and crossed the street to a nearby parking garage. We were fortunate enough to make it out when there was a gap in traffic, so we didn't have to wait at a crosswalk or run the risk of getting run over. Cosplayers still roamed the streets as far as the eye could see, and they all seemed to come and go from the parking garage, as well.

"Question," I piped up, "If this event is all about dressing up in these ridiculous costumes, why aren't you guys wearing them?"

"I couldn't decide who I wanted to be," Morgan said, "I like any and all conventions and expos anyways, so I really just came to see all the other cosplays and buy cool stuff."

"I didn't really have time to put together the cosplay I wanted to do," Ben explained, "so I just said, 'to heck with it' and brought one of my swords. It's good enough for me."

"And I have a cosplay," Eli finished, "I was going as Shuu Tsukiyama from Tokyo Ghoul, and I wasn't going to put it on again until later this afternoon."

"So this 'Shuu' character, he's one that you really like?" I questioned.

"Oh, you don't know the _half of it_!" Ben laughed, "'Like' is kind of an understatement with this guy."

Eli sighed, "Ben..."

"Like I'm pretty sure he would marry the guy, if he could."

"Ben..."

"Find a guy that looks like Sebastian Michaelis and acts like Tsukiyama, and he'd be perfect for the Erai."

" _Ben!_ "

"What? You know I'm right!"

"I know you're right, but that doesn't mean that's what my options are strictly limited to."

"Whatever you say, Erai."

"'Erai'?" I inquired, shooting Eli a curious brow, "Is that your nickname, or something?"

Eli shook his head, "In this group it is, and it's contagious. Once people hear it, they don't stop calling me it."

It was moronic. It reminded me of an Asian man trying to say Eli's name. Or the character known as Scooby-Doo. Was that the intention, or was there a deeper meaning to it? No, it couldn't be that. This didn't seem to be that sort of group. This seemed more like how Lady Sif and the Warriors Three acted. Always jesting, bickering playfully, and not so playfully at times, and jesting some more. The amount of loyalty they seemed to show each other was identical, as was my inability to be seamlessly accepted.

"So how did you and Eli meet, anyway?" Morgan asked me, "Were you guys just saying hi, or..."

"Loki was picking a fight with one of the security guards," Eli cut in with a smirk, "I pulled him out before he got tazed."

"I was not picking a fight with her," I countered, "I was merely in need of answers, and she wasn't being the least bit helpful."

"Well, you gotta admit, neither were you."

Under any normal circumstances, I would have broken Elijah's nose. I was still at full strength, despite my recent episode at the Radisson, so my punches could still do some damage... but, most likely, so could Ben's. The last time I underestimated the power of a seemingly inferior creature, I wound up embedded several inches deep in a crator on top of Stark Tower. Ben wasn't Banner, but I wasn't about to make the same mistake twice.

On top of that, no mortal here truly believed that I was a god. Eli was playing nice, and his friends simply followed his lead, but that didn't take away from the fact that they all thought that I was another mortal dressed to the nines for the convention like all the others. I really didn't want to use any magic to prove it to them, but I would if it came down to it.

"I suppose you're right about that," I said quietly, "I did let my temper get out of control back there."

"It's cool, man," Eli accepted, "That argument had to be one of the best things I've seen all weekend, aside from Iron Man getting hauled away in a stretcher for eating too many chicken tenders."

I froze, "Metal Man was here?"

"Well, a cosplayer. Apparently the Avengers have been all the rage these past few months. Ever since some big thing that happened in New York... I think they said it was a terrorist attack. I don't know. I really didn't look into it."

I exhaled with relief. I wouldn't know what to do if the Avengers discovered I was back on Midgard. The last thing I wanted was to be stuck waiting in that cage again, and this time there was no army lying in wait for me to escape. Not to mention Eli seemed pretty clueless towards my little fiasco in New York. Gods only know how I would have explained that one to him.

"That would be the joke of the century," I commented, "Metal Man getting sick off of chicken tenders. I'd never let him live that down."

Eventually, after walking for some time across the parking garage, Elijah pulled out a set of keys and hit a button on the tiny remote. Ahead of us, the tail lights of a tan car lit up, and I heard the faint sound of the doors unlocking.

"I call shotgun!" Ben called out as he rushed forward.

"What?" Eli asked, "You don't want to sit in the back with your lady? You're going to make Loki entertain her?"

Ben looked over to Morgan, "I changed my mind."

He fell back to Morgan's side and pulled her close to him as he leaned down and kissed her. In that moment, it seemed like I wasn't the only one that felt like a fourth wheel; maybe a third wheel, in his case, as Elijah climbed into the driver's seat as his friends stopped just behind his car to continue their little make out session.

"Are they always like that?" I asked as I climbed into the passenger seat beside him.

"All day, every day," Eli replied as he shut the door, "I'm the one who set them up, so it's a consequence I just have to deal with."

"You speak as though you don't have a lover, yourself."

"Maybe that's because I don't."

His comment silenced an upcoming jest. Sure, Elijah was no god by any means, but even I assumed he'd have a significant other waiting for him in his hotel room, and as I searched his face for any traces of a lie, I saw an envious spark reflected in his gaze. His eyes were no longer a piercing blue. They were dull and grey. Perhaps he was jealous of them. Jealous because they had what he did not.

"Nor I," I spoke up, "Frankly, I believe it's better that way."

Eli nodded, "Same. For a while, at least."

Without warning, he slammed his hand against the horn, sending a loud blaring sound echoing throughout the parking garage.

"Are you guys coming, or are we leaving without you?!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER!
> 
> Alright, so just to clearify a couple of things here.
> 
> Firstly, I am in no way implying that any of the security guards at Shuto Con act like this, nor have I ever encountered any that have acted like this. I just wrote it in for the sake of seeing Loki get into an argument with a security guard, and as a way to introduce my own character.
> 
> Secondly, yes I am trans, as it states in my profile, and so far I haven't had my character do anything that I would consider out of character for me. And now you know the first name I go by. No, it isn't my legal name, but it is the name I introduce myself as whenever I meet anyone.
> 
> Thirdly, regarding the Thorberg reference, that is actually based on a Viking Age tale of an individual, who was born biologically female, but demanded to be referred to as Thorberg, to have others use male pronouns, and be referred to as a king. Nothing less. Actually, it wasn't uncommon for women who didn't marry to become FTM in the Viking Age, as far as the history I've been able to look up is concerned. Homosexuality, on the other hand, that was another story.
> 
> Anyways, that's all I've got for this chapter. Stay tuned for more.
> 
> -BlueRaven 666


	3. Chapter 2: Eli

What was my first opinion of "Loki"? He was a brat. Spoiled, probably had a lot of money from the looks of his immaculate cosplay, likely used to getting everything he wanted, either by using his money or his devilishly good looks. That had to be the case. There was no way he could be a god. Gods weren't real; just stories made up by someone at some point, and people were dumb enough to believe them this long. So "Loki" was either a spoiled brat, or he was a very good cosplayer.

Originally, I didn't want to help him. Hell, maybe getting tazed by that security guard would have given him an attitude adjustment, but I was too nice for my own good, unable to keep my mouth shut and just watch it all play out like everbody else was doing. The fact that Loki didn't even know what was going on had me even more annoyed. Seriously? Dressed like a character straight out of Dungeons and Dragons, and he didn't know he was at a convention? If he was for real about all that, and not just acting, what the heck was he doing dressed up like that in the first place? I mean, woven leather, armored plates, and gauntlets weren't exactly your typical Michigander attire. Was he trying to set a trend, or something? Or was he just really into cosplaying publically?

Or maybe someone's patient had escaped from the asylum.

At least we were getting along fairly well. After he pulled out the big guns and caught on that I was trans, I was ready to nail him right and proper where the sun don't shine, and this was no midget of a man. If anything, I was the midget, and he could probably land me on my ass if he really wanted to. So we compromised; I'd call him 'Loki' if he'd call me 'Eli'. Hell, he could probably get away with calling me Slim Shady, and I hated that nickname. Anything was better than my deadname.

It came as no surprise that Loki didn't take waiting in line at registration very well. He was good probably for the first half hour or so, but when the line hadn't budged, I could sense his frustration. Even I was frustrated. Registration could get so congested with all the people who needed to step aside and put their names on their badges, along with their contact information in case the badge fell off its lanyard in a crowd, and in the middle of the day when panels and other events were starting up, it was better to just screw it and come back later on.

Loki's little episode on our way out of the Radisson seemed to solidify my confidence in him not being a god. Who had ever heard of a god collapsing from dehydration and overheating? I sure as hell hadn't. I would've rubbed it in his face had it not been for the fact that he was, well... dying. I did all I could think of to do; pulled him out of the way so he didn't get trampled, offered him water when he woke up, and run through a few questions to make sure he hadn't hit his head too hard when he landed and gave himself a concussion. I wasn't a doctor, by any means, and if my help would have made him sicker than he was, or worse, had killed him, it would have all been on me, but what was I supposed to do?

When he told me his name was Loki, once more, I knew he was all right. All right enough to be able to stay in-character the whole time, anyway. Still insisting that his name was Loki, still insisting that he was from Asgard, and still insisting that he was the God of Mischief, I was actually pretty glad that he was joining me, Ben, and Morgan for lunch. Maybe I'd finally get some straight answers from him over a sandwich, or something.

And so, we piled into my car; Loki taking the passenger seat beside me, and Ben and Morgan hopping into the back seat to resume their little make out session. Morgan pulled her IPad out of the bag Ben had brought and started scrolling. I knew what was about to go down; ten minutes of music that I didn't like.

I lit up a cigarette before we began pulling out. It only took a couple of seconds for me to notice the bewildered look on Loki's face as his eyes shifted from me to my cigarette, and back again.

"What precisely are you doing?" he asked, "What is that?"

I almost choked, "Don't tell me you've never seen a cigarette before..."

"No."

"Cancer sticks? Stogies?"

"Nope."

"Coffin nails? Ronnies? None of these are ringing any bells?"

"And again, no."

I sighed. Did this guy live under a rock or something?

Morgan leaned forward in her seat, "Are you for real?"

He was. He was so for real it was laughable. No one could just fake the level of confusion that Loki's expression held.

"Well, what does it look like I'm doing?" I asked him, "What does it smell like?"

"It smells like you're lighting foul, dried out herbs on fire and inhaling the smoke."

I let out a laugh, "I've never heard anyone put it like that before, but basically."

Loki furrowed his brows as I took another drag.

"Won't doing that destroy your lungs?" he asked, "I really don't see the appeal."

I shrugged, "I mainly do it to keep myself relaxed."

I carefully passed my smoke to him. He eyed it suspiciously before taking it between his fingers and took a drag... a long drag. Oh boy, here we go...

Sure enough, Loki's breath caught in his throat and he doubled over as he started coughing, puffs of smoke coming out with each gagging breath.

"Tha-t... is... dread-ful...!" he hacked out, "Dis...gust...ing!"

"Sorry," I said, taking the cigarette back from him and taking another drag, "I should have warned you. Cheyennes aren't everyone's cup of tea."

"H-ow...? How do you do it?"

"Well, I've been at it for about a year, and I don't take all that big of hits. You get used to it after a while."

A glare settled on Loki's face as his coughing fits settled down, "I'd hardly call that relaxing..."

"No, but there is something that'll make it a little bit better."

"I can't imagine anything that could make this better."

"Lick your lips."

The confusion returned to Loki's face, accompanied by a reasonable, understandable amount of skepticism.

"Trust me."

I turned my eyes away from the road as Loki dragged his tongue across his upper lip. His eyebrows lifted in pleasant surprise as he repeated the motion.

"It's sweet," he stated, "Tastes almost like... like... berries?"

"Xotic Berry," I confirmed, "Happens to be my personal favorite."

"Nasty!" Ben suddenly screeched from the back seat, "Making everybody else here suffer because you can't smoke real cigarettes."

"Hey! It's got tobacco and nicotine. You light it on fire and smoke it. That's real enough for me."

My words were drowned out as an obnoxious heavy metal song began blaring from Morgan's IPad. The whole car seemed to shake as both she and Ben began headbanging to the .

"Can you turn it down?!" I tried to shout over the noise, "We'll be there in about five minutes anyways!"

"But it's a good song!" Morgan whined.

"Turn. It. Down!"

Morgan pouted as she hit the IPad's volume button, and the song quieted down, "Party pooper..."

"Hey, Erai," Ben chimed in, "Why you gotta be a dick?"

That was me. The dick. The party pooper. The one always breaking up everyone's fun. All of the whining, the arguing, and the yelling was never all too serious, but it was a pain. For all of us; me getting annoyed and snapping at Morgan, Ben picking on me, and Morgan getting downtrodden at not being able to do what she wanted to do, if only for a minute or two. It was normal between the three of us, but my lack of tolerance could be the weakest link in our friendship sometimes.

The rest of the drive to the hotel... was chaotic. The traffic nearly killed us twenty times, despite the presence of traffic lights. Five minutes... I couldn't go five minutes without some nutcase cutting me off, hanging out in my blind spot, or doing something else stupid to try and cause an accident. Ben was browsing through his phone, rambling off memes on Facebook. But that was normal. He'd always try to get me to laugh, or at least smile by showing me memes that were relevant to whatever was going on in our lives at the moment. If only he didn't do it while I was in control of a raging death machine on wheels. And, of course, there was Morgan and her IPad, trying to discreetly turn up the volume to her heavy metal song in hopes I wouldn't notice. I did, but saying something wasn't going to remedy the situation. All I could do was grit my teeth and bear with it until we reached the hotel where hopefully, hopefully, she'd turn the music off, but that was unlikely.

And then there was Loki, his feet anchored to the floor, one arm braced against my seat, the other clinging to the handle of the passenger door in a white-knuckled death grip with the look of pure terror on his face.

"And I thought New York traffic was bad..." he gasped out, "Is this how it normally is around here?"

"Which are you referring to?" I asked, "The traffic, or my buddies?"

"... Both. Let's go with both."

"Well, I live in Grand Rapids, so Lansing traffic is something I'm not really familiar with, but speaking from experience this is the usual lunch rush."

"And your friends?"

"Yeah, they're always like that."

Normally, I gave people a fair warning about how insane my driving could be. It was a common occurrence for Ben to nearly have the shit scared out of him whenever I was behind the wheel. Morgan didn't complain much, unless she was high. Then she was on the verge of a panic attack if I went more than thirty five miles per hour.

And then there was us as a group... That alone should come with a warning lable. Nevermind our broken use of the English language and petty, ten percent serious conversations; we were just downright weird. Ben, being the big guy of our group, could lift me, and did so on practically a daily basis. And I wasn't exactly a feather. Morgan had her own quirks that ranged anywhere from casually groping the butts of her closest friends, to licking people's faces. And then there was me...

And then there was me... the overactive imagination. The one that developed unhealthy obsessions with fictional characters. The one that talked to themselves regularly, and responded. My rule for that was it was okay to talk to myself, it was okay to answer myself, but if I asked myself what I just said, it was time for a nice, long stay in the looney bin. Hell, I should come with a warning lable!

Based on my character judgment skills, Loki would fit in fairly well in our band of misfits. Looks alone told me he was a quirky guy with a sense of humor. He had a charming smile, and seemed to at least take somewhat of an interest in what we were doing. If he lived nearby, we could make hanging out a regular thing.

When I took time to stop and think about it, Loki could have been the God of Mischief like he insisted he was. Not that he'd done anything particularly mischievous, side from picking a fight with the security guard. He just had that vibe about him, a vibe that said he was plotting something or knew some dastardly secret that nobody else did. But my conscience was set that that was an impossibly.

Gods just didn't exist. Plain and simple.

By some miracle, we made it to the Blue Roof Inn in one piece, albeit traumatized by the insanity of traffic. I had never been so glad to park my car in my life. While Ben and Morgan seemed mostly unfazed by the whole ordeal, it took a lot to talk Loki down to where he could let go of the door handle. He was tense, his face paler than I had seen it at the convention, and his hair was in disarray from all the times I had to slam on the breaks to avoid rear-ending the moron in the big ass Silverado that had been in front of me.

"It's over?" he gasped.

"Yeah," I sighed, "and we didn't die."

"You sure about that?" Ben piped up as he unbuckled himself.

Loki and I exchanged a look. I don't think either of us were entirely sure if we were one hundred percent still alive. Loki was shaking; slightly, but not unnoticeable. My heart was beating wildly, so much so that I was sure it was echoing throughout the car. At least everyone would know I still had a pulse.

After a long moment, Loki finally let out a breath I didn't know he was holding.

"I've been closer to death than this," he stated, "I think I'll be all right."

Before I could get a word in, Loki stepped out of the car. I followed close behind, charging ahead of the group and leading the way to the hotel room. Having gone back and forth between the convention and the Blue Roof Inn a few times over the course of the weekend, I had a better idea of where the room was located than when I first showed up, and spent fifteen minutes wandering throughout the building trying to find one room. God, I was glad I knew where the hell I was going. I don't think I had the patience to wander aimlessly through this hotel again, nor Loki.

I swiped the key card across the slot above the door handle and felt irritation prick at my nerves when the light to the lock illuminated an aggravating red.

"Is that supposed to make the door open, or something?" Loki inquired, peering over my shoulder.

"It's the key to the door," I explained, "and apparently it's deciding to be a pain in the butt."

I swiped the card again, and was met once more with a red light.

"Well, whatever you're doing, it doesn't appear to be working," Loki commented.

"I can see that," I responded, his teasing adding to my irritation, though I tried to stay calm. I swiped again. Nothing, "It's being stubborn."

"Perhaps you have the wrong room."

"I've been back and forth from this hotel all weekend, Loki. I'm pretty sure I know which room I'm in."

I still looked up at the door, just to make sure. I think I would have died from embarrassment if it turned out I was trying to get into the wrong room. Room 204. Yup, this was the right room.

"Maybe you're holding it wrong," Loki said, "Try flipping the card, or something."

Okay, now I was getting really annoyed. I could feel that taunting smile on his face. It carried in his jests, and it was starting to make my blood boil. I was holding the card correctly, it was just being a pain in the ass!

It took a few more frustrating swipes of the key card, along with a couple more sarcastic comments from Loki, before the light on the door finally lit up green. In that moment, I wanted to unleash a slew of curses and send a prayer of thanks to every freaking god of every religion that existed, but more than anything I just wanted to rub it in Loki's face, so I shot him a triumphant smirk. His lips were pressed into a thin-lined smile that reeked of displeasure at being proved wrong, but he kept silent.

The room was as I had left it; two days worth of clothes strewn across the room, and overnight bags in disarray. Really the only parts of the room that were organized were the two beds, which had been neatly made, and the bathroom which had been supplied with new bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and body lotion, along with a new bar of soap. The maids probably hated us.

I strode over to the cooler sitting on a nearby chair and rummaged through it.

"What kind of sandwiches does everyone want?" I asked, "We have bologna, peanut butter and jelly, ham, and turkey."

"I'll take the ham," Ben said.

"Ham, please," Morgan piped up, cranking up another heavy metal song on her IPad.

I looked over to Loki, who had settled himself on the edge of the bed I had claimed. He shrugged, "I don't care. Just make sure there's a lot of it."

I nodded and scooped out two turkey sandwiches, a peanut butter and jelly, and one bologna. That left me with the last bologna sandwich that I'd packed. I wasn't bothered by it, due to the fact that I didn't eat much, anyways. One thing I had learned from hanging out with these guys for so long, however, was to always keep a steady supply of food on hand, because God knows we were going to need it.

The four of us sat there quietly, save for Morgan and her IPad, which I swear had gone through every genre of music in existance in the time it took to get from the parking garage to the hotel room, munching away at our sandwiches. The entire time, though, my eyes didn't leave Loki. Not that he was looking sickly again, or suspicious, but there was something about him that was just... intriguing, for lack of a better word. The way he inspected the sandwiches before daring to take a bite, almost as if he expected to find worms or a moldy slice of bread, the way his eyebrows lifted and he subtly nodded in satisfaction, and just his appearance, in general; his long, raven black hair, his pale skin that looked like he hadn't been exposed to a lick of sunlight in his life, those curiously green eyes that stunk of trouble, the black and green leather garments with golden armor. Everything about him was just... intriguing.

I wasn't the only one who was staring. Ben was tossing several glances over to him between bites of his sandwich, but it wasn't curiosity that lurked in his gaze. He looked more like he'd been forced into being in the same room as a sexual predator, ready to jump him the moment he tried something suspicious, and when compared to Loki, Ben could have easily snapped him like a twig. In that moment the air in the room was less relaxing, and more tense; not that Morgan's assortment of music was helping any.

"So Loki," I spoke up, breaking the silence, "Tell us about yourself."

Loki brushed a few crumbs away from the corner of his mouth with his thumb, "What would you like to know?"

The truth. It took everything in me to keep the words from slipping out of my mouth. Sure, I was willing to play along with his little Norse god act if he wasn't willing to share such personal information with someone he only met a few hours ago, but I wanted answers.

"Anything, really," I replied, "You certainly don't sound like you're from around here. Are you from England, or somethin'?"

He shook his head slightly, "No, actually. The accent is Asgardian. I've known how to speak English fluently for quite a while, but the accent remains."

Yup, here we go again...

Just play along, Erai. Just play along.

"And how long did it take you to learn English?"

"About three days, give or take..."

The bite of my sandwich that was still in my mouth was swallowed whole. Three days? Nobody could master a language in three days!

"That's... impressive..." I forced out, fighting to keep myself from choking, "Do you know any other languages?"

Loki nodded, "All of them, actually. Every language from all Nine Realms I can either speak fluently, or semi-fluently."

It was taking everything in me not to lose my shit. No way any of this was real! He was just acting. Just acting! But he was deceivingly good at it. This guy would make a brilliant, fucking actor!

"And, uh, how long it it take you to learn all of these different languages?" I asked.

"Not terribly long," Loki answered, "Six years, roughly."

I was pretty sure I could feel that piece of sandwich settle somewhere deep in one of my lungs. I didn't know whether to laugh, or start coughing. Part of me was starting to wonder whether or not I should be taking him seriously, but another part was telling me he was just bullshitting; coming up with random answers on the fly. And then there was that one part of me that wanted to keep asking questions. See how far Loki was willing to keep up the charade.

"So, were you born in Asgard?" I inquired.

Loki paused as a disturbed look settled on his face.

"No," he said bluntly, "I was born in a place called Jotenheim. Cold, dark, teaming with monsters; I'd rather not talk about it."

"Hey, Eli?" Morgan piped up, "Can I talk to you for a second?"

I'd been so engrossed in what Loki was telling me that I hadn't noticed that Morgan had paused whatever song she was playing on her IPad and was curled up on the chair she was in listening nervously. Ben was beside her, nodding intently.

"Preferably out in the hall..." he added.

I had a feeling I knew where this was going, and I quickly looked over to Loki, "Would you excuse me for just a minute?"

He nodded, downing the last bite of a turkey sandwich, and digging into the bologna.

I followed Ben and Morgan out into the hall. We were careful not to let the door shut all the way and lock ourselves out, and we stepped a fair ways away from the door to avoid being heard buy our peculiar guest.

"I don't like the looks of this guy," Morgan stated, "He's cute, but he's talking like a crazy person."

"I agree," Ben said, "We're not at the convention right now. There's no reason for him to be staying in character, unless he's hiding something."

"You think I'm believing a word out of his mouth?" I whispered frantically, "All day he's been saying he's the son of Odin, and the God of Mischief, and stuff. I couldn't get anything else out of him otherwise, so I've just been rolling with it."

"Just promise you'll kick him out when we're done with lunch," Morgan whined, "He sounds like he needs help real bad."

"Yeah," Ben agreed, "I'll chuck him out the window, if it comes down to it."

I looked between the two of them. It was sad that they didn't feel safe around Loki. Maybe that was understandable, but I had to wonder what was really going on with him. What could he be hiding that would make him take the act this far? Was he a criminal on the run? Insane? Or was he just really big into cosplay like I'd been suspecting all this time.

"Okay," I finally agreed, "I'll have him go before I drop you guys back off at the convention. He said he wasn't looking to go back anyways."

"Good," Ben said, "If he gets any crazier, though, he's gonna have to go!"

"Fine," I reluctantly agreed.

If I was being honest with myself, I really didn't want to kick Loki out. Not until I got to the bottom of his act, anyway.

* * *

"Hey, Loki, can I talk to you for a sec?"

I didn't like what I was about to do. Then again, I did. This afternoon had been downright bizarre, from the time I met Loki up to now. The conversations that happened after Ben, Morgan, and I had our little talk in the hallway didn't get much better. It had veered to him talking about his life and family in Asgard, briefly, to him claiming he was born to be a king, and was the rightful king of Asgard. Sure, even I had gone through the princess phase when I was a kid, and wanted to be a queen, but to see a man who looked like he was in his mid to late twenties talking like that was just unnerving, and he really didn't seem like the kind of guy you could reason with.

Obviously, these conversations didn't go over well with Ben and Morgan. Ben looked about ready to drop him off of the hotel roof, clenching his fists with a straight face, only giving Loki a curt nod of acknowledgement on the occasion. Morgan was huffing from her vape wide-eyed, clearly convinced Loki had gone insane. I was used to the thick clouds of fruity-smelling vape juice being blown into my face, as Morgan had a tendency to do it all the time, whether it was convenient or not, but I was seriously worried that the clouds were pooling out from the cracks in the door and someone was going to walk by and think we were smoking from a hookah, or something.

I listened to Loki quietly. Sure, I thought he was insane, but another part of me listened to him for one specific reason. He was venting. I didn't know what, but something was wrong with him; not exactly mentally, but emotionally. His eyes said it all. He was tired, hurt, and scared. He may never admit it to anyone, but it was all there in his eyes. That smile of his was covering something, and that's when I knew I couldn't just ditch him, even if it might be the safer way to go.

Loki nodded and we stepped out into the hallway while Ben and Morgan began rounding up their supplies for the convention, namely smokes, fully charged electronic devices, and snacks. Lot and lots of snacks.

"Let me guess," Loki started with a slight grin, "You've brought me out here to kick me out."

"What makes you think that?" I asked.

Loki let out a laugh, "You think you can fool me? In Asgard I'm known as 'the Liesmith', 'the Silvertongue'. It takes quite a lot to fool me, and you and your friends haven't seemed the slightest bit comfortable in my presence since we arrived."

Damn! Was it that noticeable?

"Let's just say, with all intents and purposes, that everything you said back there was true," I said, "that you really are the Norse god of mischief and not some cosplayer. What would bring you to a place like Earth? From the sounds of it, Earth is a mossy rock covered in ants compared to Asgard. Seems like you would be more at home around people that are like you, rather than around mortals like me."

"And you would be right in assuming that," Loki stated, "and believe me, I would happily return to Asgard, if only I could. But I got myself into a bit of trouble, both here and on Asgard, and now I've been banished here with little more than the clothes on my back."

"So, in other words, you have nowhere else to go."

"Essentially."

I let out a sigh. It was getting harder and harder to dismiss him as just another cosplayer, but I found myself still refusing to believe everything he was telling me. How could I, if he had a reputation for being a persuasive liar? For all I knew, he could be another Lansing thug waiting for the right moment to jump me, snatch my wallet, and steal my car. But what if he was telling the truth? What if he really didn't have anywhere else to go? It was March. It was still cold, and freezing rain and snow would still be in the forecast for a few more weeks yet. I already pitied the homeless, whether they were actually homeless or not, and here could be one right in front of me looking for help, even if Loki wouldn't actually say it.

"Back on topic," I spoke up, "Yes, I brought you out here to kick you out."

Loki's expression didn't change, but his spirit seemed to fall, "As I suspected..."

"Unless..."

"Unless what?"

"You can convince me, right here and now, that you really are the God of Mischief. Do that, and I might be able to work something out for you."

Loki was silent for a long moment. It seemed like he was pondering something in his head, though what exactly, I didn't really know.

Finally he let out a heavy sigh, "Then I guess this is good-bye, Elijah."

I nodded in response. As I suspected.

I stuck out my hand, "It was nice meeting you, Loki. Maybe we'll bump into each other at Shuto again next year."

"Perhaps..."

I only processed that he was going to reach out to shake my hand, but before I could touch him, his hand faded away in a shimmering green light, along with the rest of him. Now, I was left facing nothing but a blank beige wall. I was completely thrown. One minute he was there, and the next he was gone! I blinked a few times and scanned where he'd been standing. Was I losing my mind?

"It's called an illusion..."

The sudden voice nearly made me jump out of my skin. I wheeled around to find Loki standing beside the door to the hotel room, arms crossed and a bemused smirk on his face.

"Thanks to my use of magic, I'm able to create images of myself, as well as other people," he continued, "My banishment has left me with a limited amount of magic to use. Once it's gone, it's gone until Odin decides otherwise. The same goes with my godly strength and other abilities, but this appeared to be the only way I could convince you."

My mind was still reeling from what had just happened, but the new information Loki had presented added to it.

"So," I managed to choke out, taking a cautious step forward, "you really are the God of Mischief."

Loki rolled his eyes, "Of course, now you believe me."

"Well, yeah. You just made yourself vanish into thin air. Even David Copperfield couldn't have pulled that off!"

Loki let out a laugh, this time with a little more humor behind it.

"So what will you do, Eli?" he asked, "Your friends want you to kick me out, but now you'll have to hold up your end of the bargain."

"True," I responed in a long breath, "I have a plan."

"Is it a good plan?"

"... I have a plan."

I explained that Ben and Morgan planned on going back to the convention, and that they planned on staying late. I would have joined them, if I hadn't destroyed my feet walking around in my cosplay shoes the day before, and my feet had already been tired and sore from work. Ben had a friend at the convention that was willing to drive them back, in case I wanted to leave early. I always left early. I instructed Loki to wait in front of the hotel until I came back. I'd tell Morgan and Ben that I was going to pack up our things in the room when I came back, and drive myself home. It wouldn't be a total lie. I just wouldn't be leaving here alone

I lived alone in my apartment, but there was still room for one more. It was a loft apartment with one and a half baths. Granted, it'd mean one of us would be stuck sleeping on the couch downstairs, but it could be worse. Loki would be able to stay until he figured out a way to get on his feet, or until his banishment was up; whichever came first. Given that I had to work on most week nights, Loki would have the apartment to himself while he slept, and since I slept during the day, I wouldn't be around to bug him all that often.

"And what of your friends?" Loki asked, "Won't they panic once they've discovered you let me into your home?"

He did have a point. Neither Ben nor Morgan would be thrilled if they walked into the apartment to find Loki just chilling there like it was nobody's business. Ben was technically my roommate, and the lease was in his name, so I couldn't exactly say, 'My roof, my rules.' But, on the other hand, Ben spent all of his time at Morgan's. He was usually gone from the apartment for weeks at a time; long enough to bring things up to him once Loki had gotten settled.

"I'll work it out with them later," I said, "For now, just wait for me in the lobby. It shouldn't take much more than twenty five minutes for me to get back, if traffic cooperates."

"And if it doesn't?" Loki questioned.

I thought for a moment.

"If I'm gone more than fourty five minutes, assume that I'm dead."

* * *

"Is he gone?"

Morgan slammed me with the question as I re-entered the hotel room. She had just slung her purse, or the never ending pit of death, as I called it, over her shoulder as Ben slipped his backpack over his.

"Yup," I said, "And, as far as getting booted out goes, I think it went very well."

"You were out there for quite a while, dude," Ben spoke up, "You sure everything went okay with that guy?"

"Yeah. He's got a friend nearby that's going to pick him up. No worries."

"And he didn't try anything with you?"

"God, no!" I couldn't keep myself from raising my voice, "He's weird, not a perv."

"Just checking! Dude seemed pretty sketchy to me."

I dropped the subject, "Are you guys ready to go?"

"Yeah," Morgan looked me over, "Aren't you going to get your cosplay on?"

"Nah. I think I'm just gonna head home after I drop you guys off."

Morgan inhaled deeply from her vape and let out a loud, "No!"; holding the note until the cloud had completely left her lungs. By that point, Ben and I were doubled over in laughter. She always did that, just for the sake of the vape. There was no other reason behind it.

"You're so lame, Erai!" she whined, "Come to the convention with us!"

"I'm sorry," I said, "I still got stuff I need to get done before work tomorrow."

"So do it tomorrow, then!"

"I can't. I'm gonna be sleepin' all day tomorrow!"

Morgan let out a sigh, "You're so lame..."

"Guess I'll let my buddy know we'll be needing a ride," Ben piped up as he pulled out his phone, "You sure you don't want to stay for a while longer, bruh?"

"I'm sure," I said, "My feet are dead, anyways. Ain't no way I'm pitting those shoes back on."

Ben nodded, "Then let's get going, dude. Our panel starts in like an hour, and I wanna make sure we get in."

Been there, done that. I've stood in line for an hour for panels just to get a seat, and others had waited longer. Last year, Yuri! On Ice had been all the rage, and I got in line for that panel as soon as I could. The line for it had been about as long as the lines at registration, even though they could only fit one hundred and fifty people in the room. The fact that Ben and Morgan were going to be jumping in line at the last minute... All I could think was, "Good luck."

We hurried out of the hotel, taking the back way out of the building and avoiding the lobby. Who knows what Ben and Morgan would have done if they would have seen Loki sitting there waiting? Who knows what I would have done if they would have seen Loki sitting there waiting?! We piled into my car, and I essentially gassed it all the way back to the Lansing Center the moment I found a gap in traffic; well, gassed it as much as I could, given that the speed limit was thirty five. Yes, unlike most Michiganders, speed limits actually meant something to me, and I was relieved when I pulled up to the convention without having to deal with a single moron trying to do something stupid.

"You're sure you don't want to come with us?" Morgan asked me as she hopped out of the back seat.

"I'm sure," I replied.

"So you're just going to go to the hotel, pack up shit, and head out?" Ben followed.

"That's the plan."

"Okay, drive safe. Let us know when you get to the apartment."

"I will."

Morgan took another hit from her vape and blew a thick, sweet smelling cloud in my face.

"I still think you're lame for not staying."

I nodded, "I know."

And know, I did. Chances were there was going to be a message on my phone by the end of the day with Morgan calling me lame once again, followed by a flood of photos of everything I had missed. The taunting would probably continue on for a few days after before Ben and Morgan found something else worthy of picking on me over, and chances were that something would be Loki.

It was a risk that I was willing to take.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER
> 
> So I believe this chapter has less to be explained. Morgan's, Ben's, and my characters are pretty accurate, in my own opinion, so I should note that whenever they come into a scene, most of what they do in the story isn't too far off from real life. Yes, they would stand behind my car and make out, and yes I would definitely have to blare the horn at them at some point.
> 
> That being said, I'm sorry if Loki seems out of character at some points in the story... or if you ship yourself with him. Sorry, but he's mine for this story.
> 
> Oh, and the whole Ironman being hauled away in a stretcher for eating too many chicken tenders is actually based on something that happened at Shuto Con one year when I was there. Someone there ate too many french fries and had to be wheeled out by paramedics. At least that was the story I was told.
> 
> -BlueRaven 666


	4. Chapter 3: Loki

_What the Hel are you getting yourself into, Loki?_

The thought ran through my head over and over again. Meeting Elijah, becoming weak before him, joining him for a meal, making him lie to his friends just to help me; how many debts was I to owe this mortal before my banishment terminated? Could I even bring myself to repay those debts in kind? And what was I to do if my banishment became permanent? I couldn't just rely on Elijah for the rest of my days. He wouldn't allow it. Surely, surely he wouldn't be stupid enough to allow it.

I found myself pacing in the hotel lobby. Not slow and steady, as per usual whilst I waited. My strides were long, fast, and full of purpose when there was no purpose to be had. My steps carried me from the front desk over to the dining area too quickly for my liking, and back again.

_Decline_ , I found myself thinking, _Decline his offer. You've made your way in other realms before. Surely Midgard will be no different. Just decline the offer when he gets back. No good will come of this..._

"Excuse me, sir..." the voice of the lady at the reception desk pulled me from my thoughts, and honestly it was the last thing I wanted to hear at the moment.

"What?!" I shouted, my voice carrying through the silence of the lobby.

The receptionist jumped back a few feet, clearly terrified. Gods, I didn't mean it like that. I hated raising my voice in every sense, and the yelling was just downright painful and could come so suddenly. It made me sound like an arrogant brat, rather than a prince, let alone a king.

"I-I-I'm sorry," I managed to stutter out, trying to calm myself down, "What is it?"

My words didn't seem to ease the receptionist's nerves. She was shrunk back, wide-eyed, hands twisted up at her chest, mouth agape with a startled look on her face.

"I-Is everything all right?" she whimpered, taking a cautious step forward.

No. No, everything was not all right. If everything were all right, I'd still be in Asgard, sitting on the throne, Odin and the frost giants would be dead, and Thor would be the one who was banished, not me. If everything were all right, I would be ruling over the people of Midgard as a benevolent god, instead of being banished to Midgard and scarcely more powerful than the average human. If everything were all right, I wouldn't have to rely on a mortal just to get by. But what of this could this lady understand?

"Yes," I said, forcing myself to halt my pacing entirely, "Yes, everything is perfectly fine. It's just, uh, one of my friends is running a little late. Don't worry about it."

The receptionist nodded frantically as she tried to make herself look preoccupied with something on her desk. I decided to take a seat in a plush chair nearby, rather than resume my pacing and risk working myself up again. Not that it helped any. My mind was still racing with what I should do. What would Thor do?

Bah! That wasn't even a question worth answering. Thor would accept any help that was offered to him. He'd clung to that Jane Foster for dear life when he'd been banished. He just happened to get lucky that he'd been saddled with a mortal that took an interest in other universes, making it easier for him to convince and prove that he was the God of Thunder. And who was I stuck with? Some random Midgardian who enjoyed dressing up in silly, vibrantly colored outfits and meeting other Midgardians dressed up in silly, vibrantly colored outfits.

_"Loki, this is madness!"_

Thor's words echoed in my head, and my anger towards him started anew. I remembered a certain Asgardian who wanted to charge into Jotunheim and attack the frost giants, dragging me and his precious friends with him.

_"Is it madness? Is it? Is it?! Come on, what happened on Earth that turned you so soft? Don't tell me it was that woman!"_

The look that had been on Thor's face had said it all. Was that what the Allfather was trying to do? Saddle me with some human in the vain hope that it could soften me? Well, that wasn't going to happen. I wouldn't allow it!

And Frigga... My precious mother. What would she do? What would she have wanted me to do?

_"We mustn't lose hope that your father will return to us... and your brother."_

_"What hope is there for Thor?"_

_"There's always a purpose to everything your father does."_

Then what was the purpose of this? To punish me? To change me? I already had the hideous cold, blue skin and markings of a frost giant beneath this guise. What more was Odin wanting to change until he'd be satisfied with what I was? I suppose it would never be that way, though. Thor would always be the favorite son, and so long as there was still life flowing through him, he would always be considered heir to the throne.

Still, even as my anger mounted towards her words, I tried to listen to them as if Thor had been the one with her, and that they had been speaking of me. Putting it like that lessened my anger, and I tried to think of how my banishment would only last a year. One year. It's not like I was going to be here for the rest of Eli's days. I would not be made to watch him die of old age, or whatever disease came for him from those dreadful cigarettes. It would only be for a year, and then we could go out separate ways.

_"Do you not truely feel the gravity of your crimes?"_

Odin's voice washed over my thoughts like a shadow. No, worse than a shadow; a starless night with not a moon, fire, lamp, or candle in sight. It shrouded my thoughts in darkness.

_"Wherever you go, there is war, ruin, and death."_

War, ruin, and death...

I looked around myself thinking back to all that's happened today. I had angered a security guard, had collapsed, convinced Elijah that I was truely a god, and had scared a hotel receptionist half to death. In that amount of time, I could have done any number of things. I could have killed that security guard, enslaved everyone in that convention center, made Elijah drive off the road at some point, and attacked him and his friends. If my presence only brought about war, ruin, and death, then I must be doing a pretty poor job at being, well, me.

I thought back to after I had fallen into the abyss. Meeting Thanos, aquiring the spear, the Tesseract... Gods I hated what I had to go through just to get to Earth, and the person I'd become when I had. I was already weak and exhausted from all the tortures that walking grape could concoct; hungry, thirsty, in pain. But the bloodthirst... the bloodthirst had to be the worst of it; blinding me so all I could see was a throne just barely within reach, and everyone who stood in the way of that would be killed. That wasn't what I'd wanted. I wasn't a murderer by nature, but Thanos was. I wanted the buildings to stand, the people to live and kneel before me. Thanos didn't care. If the Tesseract was kept from him, there was nothing he wouldn't be willing to do to get it back. I had failed, and I was still alive. Thanos would be looking for me.

_"If you fail, if the Tesseract is kept from us, there will be no realm, no barren moon, no crevice where he can't find you!" the echo of the Other's voice sent chills racing through the marrow of my bones, "You think you know pain... He'll make you long for something sweet as pain!"_

This was the biggest reason I could not go through with accepting Elijah's offer. If Thanos came for me within the year, if he found me, Eli would only be in his way. He would die, and I would not allow another soul to die because of my selfish ambition.

The sound of the hotel's front doors opening pulled me from my thoughts. Eli strode into the room, tapping something out quickly on his cell phone before slipping it back into his pocket. I stood up from my seat and made my way towards him. Now was a good of time as any.

"Elijah," I spoke up, "I must speak with you urgently."

"So do I," Eli's response caught me off guard, "You go first."

"No, you first."

If I could put off having to say what I had to, I would. I didn't know what it was about him, but there was something about Elijah that was disarming.

"Alright," he said in a slight huff, "I managed to get around Ben and Morgan without them suspecting anything, but sometime within the next week, or so, I'm going to have to take you over to their place so you can be reintroduced to them, and, magic or no magic, we have to convince them that you're a god and were telling the truth, otherwise Ben is probably going to throttle you."

Oh, boy. I should have gone first.

"Actually, I've changed my mind."

My words made Eli's face contort in confused, slightly shocked expression, "What?"

"I cannot stay with you," I explained, "Please believe me when I say that I am grateful for all that you've done for me today, and for all that you were prepared to do, but... remember when I had said that I'd gotten myself into some trouble on Midgard? This ties in with that."

"... The police are after you?"

"No."

"The FBI?"

"No."

"Asgard?"

"No, this is worse. Far, far worse. Your life will be in danger if I am to go with you."

Elijah began pacing the length of the hotel lobby, just as I had been earlier. His steps were not quick or impatient, though. His were slow, steady steps that made his footfalls echo against the silence. He was quieter than I would have liked. I was half expecting him to plead with me to go with him regardless, or just become annoyingly loud and sad as Midgardians tended to do when their plans changed so suddenly. But that didn't happen. Instead he was silent, pacing.

"How long do you think it'll be before they find you?" he ask, pausing suddenly.

"I'm not sure," I replied, "It could be years, it could be an hour from now. Who knows? All I know is that if he does come for me, you will be powerless to do anything about it."

Eli resumed his pacing. He only managed a few steps before he stood up straight and turned to me, his movements almost mechanical.

"I like those odds."

His words hit me like a kick in the guts.

"You've got to be joking," I started, "Thanos has promised a world of pain and torture upon me for failing to subjugate the Earth. When he comes, there'll be nothing you can do to stop him. He'll _kill_ you!"

"And how much better off are you on your own?"

The words were spoken bitterly, but not because Eli himself was bitter. I'd heard the tone before. It was a tone Thor used when he was being perfectly blunt with me. There was no heat or anger behind the words. He just wanted me to hear him. The fact that his new-found tone was completely different from the lighthearted tone he normally carried in his voice left me good and tongue-tied.

"You said that your powers as a god and your magic are both limited," he continued, "What are you going to do when this Thanos guy comes for you? Even if you still have as much magic as you do now when that happens, it probably won't be enough to stop him."

"And what of you?" I countered, standing toe to toe with him, "I've killed many and have hurt many more. There's nothing in all Nine Realms I can do to make up for that. You can at least say you've never killed anyone, or tried to destroy an entire race, or tried to enslave an entire race, but I have!"

Eli shrugged, his demeanor suddenly changing back to the one I was familiar with.

"True, but that still doesn't mean you've gotta go through this on your own," he explained, "Besides, you said it yourself; Thanos could come for you years from now, or he might come an hour from now. That leaves a lot of time. If we were to play 'Pick a Number' based on that, the odds of us getting the exact number would be astronomical."

"I still don't like my odds, though," I said, "Especially when it's lives I'm gambling with. I cannot do that again. Not again."

A smirk tugged sharply at a corner of Eli's mouth and his brows lifted.

"Something in me says this Thanos guy is the least of your problems right now."

It was those words that brought me back down from my panic. He was right. Thanos was the least of my problems at the moment. My first problem was finding a place to stay for the duration of my banishment, and here it was right in front of me; the only person who'd been willing to help me this entire time. The only person...

Without him, I was just a sitting duck waiting for Thanos.

Apparently, I was not the only one wise in the ways of being a silver tongue.

"So," Eli piped up, "Are you still coming with, or do you want me to leave you here to find your own way, like you suggested?"

* * *

"You're sure you wouldn't like any help with that?"

I watched in amusement as Elijah struggled to lift the last of his and his friends' luggage into the trunck of his car. His packing had been rushed and sloppy, as check-out was cut off at five o'clock and Valhalla forbid he be late for that. It was noted that the two suitcases had a mixture of everyone's clothes packed inside them, as well as a stash of shampoos, conditioners, lotions, and soaps from the bathroom. Why he hadn't decided to just go all out and make off with the bed he seemed so pleased by, I had no idea.

"Nope..." Eli choked out, hoisting the second suitcase into the trunk, "I got it."

I continued to watch as the suitcase was thrown inside with a loud thud. What was in the luggage that made them so heavy in the first place? How much had Elijah and his friends packed? It was only for the weekend. It's not like they were going to be away for several weeks.

"There!" Eli said with an exasperated breath, "Now all we have to do is go check out."

I nodded and follwed him back inside and into the lobby. The receptionist I had snapped at earlier was still there, and she looked to be none too pleased to see me. I stood a ways back from the front desk and allowed Eli to return the key card, which had failed him many times today, and pay for the night he and his friends had spent there. It only took a few minutes for the transaction to be completed, and before long we were back in his car.

"Is this drive going to be anything like when we came here from Shuto Con?" I asked, instinctively grabbing the handle I had clung to on the way to the hotel.

"Probably," Elijah responded as he pulled out his cell phone. He hit one of the small squares and it pulled up a map. He tapped the screen a few more times before a woman's voice came from the small electronic device.

"You are on the fastest route. You should reach your destination by 6:20 PM."

From the moment Eli pulled out of the hotel parking lot, the voice kept returning periodically to tell him where he needed to turn at, usually miles in advance.

"Is this your own version of JARVIS?" I asked, not taking my eyes off of the small blue arrow that followed a blue line on the map.

"JARVIS?" Eli questioned shooting me a confused look, "I though JARVIS was Stark's thing."

"You know Tony Stark? Metal Man?"

Eli laughed, "I don't think there's a person alive right now who doesn't know who he is. Multi-millionaire, ﹰAvenger, ﹰIronman; the guy's in the news every freaking day."

"Well you're not wrong," I chuckled, "So who is this speaking to you?"

"Everyone just calls her Siri. Nobody really likes her, but my GPS hasn't gotten me lost yet. Besides, we're only going to need it until we get to Grand Ledge. I know where I'm going from there."

I nodded and passed the time watching the scenery change from that of a congested city, to barren fields, to a quaint little town. Only then did Elijah finally bend down, turn Siri off, and turn on the radio.

Personally, I was glad he wasn't blaring the music like Morgan had been this afternoon. He turned it up just to the point where it could be heard over the low hum of the car. This type of music was far different than the ear-shreading noises Morgan listened to; still much different than the music on Asgard, but pleasant in a way.

Eventually the small town gave way to the sight of cornfields and trees. There was hardly any traffic, and Eli seemed to relax one thousand fold as he lit up a cigarette. Maybe those nasty little things did help him. Gradually, the calm sights, the quieter sounds, the fruity smell of Eli's smokes began tugging on my eyelids. I hadn't realized that I was so exhausted until now, now that I was relaxed, and sitting, and not having to worry about badges, or lines, or anything else that had happened today.

Eventually, I gave in; resting my head against the window, and falling asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER
> 
> So this chapter I actually had to consult with Morgan a lot to get through. For the record, she wants me to make her as crazy as possible in this story, and trust me, the further along I go, the crazier she's going to be.
> 
> There's not really a lot that needs to be explained in this chapter other than, yes, I smoke Cheyennes. No, I don't just pass them willie-nillie to people. I realize they're considered to be more cigars than cigarettes, but due to their small size and filters, we either refer to them as smokes or cigarettes anyways.
> 
> I think I should also mention that I'm not affiliated with the following establishments that have been mentioned thus far: McDonald's, the Red Roof Inn (called the Blue Roof Inn in the story), Wendy's, Steak N' Shake, or the Cheyenne cigar brand.
> 
> -BlueRaven 666


	5. Chapter 4: Eli

I didn't have to look at him to tell that Loki had fallen asleep. The way he went from leaning forward in his seat, staring intently out the window to leaning back with his head resting against the window was all the information I needed. The light snoring that followed was soothing, in a way. I was so used to Ben's loud snoring blaring in my ear that the difference was pleasant. It made me wonder briefly what exactly happened when a God of Mischief snored. Did it cause earthquakes? Did misfortune cease for a time? Guess I was going to have a whole year to find out.

Ho-ly. _Fuck_! I had a god in my car! I had a _god_ in my _car_! I don't think I had actually allowed that fact to sink in until just now. There was a god next to me. He was real, not a cosplayer. He was real! Holy fuck! If I didn't have a reason to drive like I was carrying precious, precious cargo before, I definitely did now. An accident might seem like an insignificant inconvenience in the face of a god, but who knows what chaos would errupt from Hell if the God of Mischief was even injured in a car wreck, let alone killed.

I followed the speed limits religiously, only going three or four miles over at certain points. Anyone who wanted to tailgate me would just have to suck it up and go around. I wasn't going to take any chances. Not today.

What was I even going to tell everyone; Ben, Morgan, my parents? All of them were going to hear about Loki at some point, and chances were I wasn't going to be able to make him do his little vanishing act for all of them before his magic ran out. What would happen then? Would they take it in stride like I had? Would they panic? And what would even happen when Loki's magic finally did run out? Would he die? Would he become sick? Or would he just be... here; a former god trapped in a human-like vessel?

As I drove, I couldn't help but keep glancing at my dashboard, watching the needle to my gas tank drop closer and closer to E. I was at a quarter tank, and it was usually at this point where my Taurus became a gas guzzler. Damn it all! We were half way home, and I was hoping it would last me until I got back to Grand Rapids, but that was unlikely between the stretch of freeway I still had to drive and the evening traffic. The odds of us getting stuck in a jam were ridiculously high and wouldn't be a good place to run out of gas.

Good thing there was a gas station a few miles ahead just before the freeway. On top of needing to fill up, I was running low on smokes, and getting hungry, and I had no doubt that Loki would be feeling a bit peckish himself. It'd been about six hours since he'd had something to drink, and about five hours since we'd all had lunch. No harm in stopping in and buying a few packs of Cheyennes and an over-priced meal, I suppose.

My face twisted in annoyed disgust as we approached the first gas station. $2.69 per gallon... ugh! Not as bad as some other places, but even I knew I'd be able to get it eight cents cheaper in Grand Rapids than here, and it had been $2.59 in Grand Ledge. Looks like I lost the gas pump roulette on this one. A few pennies or a dime never meant much, unless it came down to filling up, but it was better than going without.

As I pulled up to the pump, I heard Loki inhale sharply through his nose and his head lifted up from it's previously limp position against the passenger door window. He looked around, his eyes still heavy with sleep.

"Where are we?" he asked tiredly.

"A few miles outside of Lowell," I replied, "I have to stop and get gas, plus there's a few things I need from inside."

Loki made a noise to let me know he'd heard me before his head rested against the window once more and he fell back asleep. I was glad to see that it seemed like he was comfortable, if he was able to fall asleep around me so easily. That, or he was just insanely tired, and, judging from how his day seemed to have gone, it could have been the latter.

After pumping a whole thirty-two bucks into the gas tank, I walked inside and looked for something that would peak my appetite. The bad thing about gas stations, aside from being ungodly expensive, was that there wasn't anything all that healthy to eat. Rows of chips and candy, and shelves of glazed, creme-filled pastries seemed to be the only thing on the menu tonight, and I groaned. I was hungry. No doubt Loki was hungry, too, and I had really hoped I could have found a slice of pizza, a Subway, some chicken fries; something! No such luck. The healthiest things I could find were bags of nuts and beef jerky. McDonald's offered healthier options than anything here.

I settled on just buying my smokes, as well as a couple bottles of water. After his little incident at Shuto, I wasn't about to make Loki go much longer without something to drink. I had made a few meals back at the apartment, intended to be packed as lunches for work next week. There would be plenty to eat for the both of us, and I wouldn't have to spend any money at some fast food drive thru.

I managed to escape the gas station having only dropped ten bucks for three packs of Cheyennes and two bottles of water, on top of the thirty-two bucks for gas. Not the worst I've ever done. It probably would have been closer to twenty bucks if I would have bought something to eat.

Loki woke up once more as I settled myself into the driver's seat and placed one of the water bottles in his hands. He happily sipped from it as I started chugging mine. It hadn't been until the cool water hit my tongue that I realized I was so thirsty, then again I had a very bad habit of not drinking a lot of fluids. It was a miracle that I hadn't been the one to pass out yet.

"We're close to reaching your home, I assume," Loki suddenly piped up.

"Not quite," I said, "We're still another twenty minutes away."

"I thought Siri stated that we were expected to arrive by 6:20. It is now 6:17."

"I took the back roads. It takes longer, but we avoided a major stretch of freeway that way. Besides, it's not like the apartment's going anywhere."

Loki nodded and resumed drinking his water as I started up my car. I felt a bit of satisfaction settle in me as I watched the needle shoot up from the quarter tank line up to F. With any luck, it'll be enough to last me until payday.

* * *

I half expected Loki to fall back asleep somewhere on the rest of the drive to the apartment. The water must have rerefreshed his system, though, as he was leaned forward in his seat gazing out the window once more. I wondered what was going through his head as he watched the scenery change from trees to brief glimpses of a passing city to more trees. At times, it seemed he was less focused on those things and more on the sky; still grey and overcast. There were a couple of times where the weather had given way to a few snow flurries, and I could have sworn during those times I had seen him tense up with unease.

I wasn't fond of Michigan weather, myself, specifically rain. I was no more comfortable driving in a simple rain shower than I was driving in a complete whiteout; tense, white-knuckled, and taking my sweet ass time to get where I needed to go. It'd been that way ever since the accident that happened a year and a half ago. My nerves had gotten better in that time, but it didn't change the fact that I was still scared that one day history was going to repeat itself. So a few flurries, to me, was nothing.

After a half hour of dealing with two to four lanes of evening traffic, we finally turned onto the winding road that led up to my apartment complex. It wasn't until then that I realized the calm weather we'd experienced had been deceiving. The main roads were clear. They were always clear, but the roads leading to my apartment were, apparently, insignificant side roads unworthy of being plowed or salted. On top of that, the complex was situated in a sort of hollow, making it a downhill drive, or slide in this instance, all the way there.

Winter and early spring in Michigan; where the lanes don't matter, and the plows are too busy to give a damn.

I was relieved when we pulled into the parking lot and found an empty parking space in front of the door. Not that the other parking spaces were all that far, either, but after a long, eventful weekend of convention going, the less walking that I had to do, the better.

"So this is where you live?" Loki inquired as I turned off the car and started unbuckling myself.

"Yup," I replied curtly.

"It's quite large."

I stifled a laugh, "Yeah, well I just live in one of the apartments here. My neighbors make up everything else."

"Just one? How do you function in such a confined space?"

It wasn't until then that it started to click. Loki was most likely accustomed to living in a palace; having a whole freaking castle to wander around in. The concept of living in an apartment was probably the equivalent of living in a walk-in closet to him. I was used to this sort of living situation. I had spent most of my time living in my bedroom at my parent's house for two years before moving to Grand Rapids, and it was smaller than my apartment. This was definitely going to take some time, on Loki's part, to get used to.

"I promise it's not as bad as what you're thinking," I said, "It's a loft apartment, so there's a little bit of extra space upstairs."

Loki still didn't seem all that impressed with it, but at least he'd have a roof over his head. Better than being stuck in a cardboard box on the street somewhere.

I strode over to the front door, leaving any sort of loot I had brought home from Shuto in the car. It took a second of fumbling with my keys to dig out the dirty brass key to the complex from under a pile of three other keys and a mess of keychains. It wasn't until I was about to stick the key in the keyhole that I noticed that the door was slightly ajar; not enough to leave it wide open, but enough so it wasn't locked.

Thank. You. Neighbors!

As we entered, the sound of laughter, hooting, and hollering could be heard; a cackle that cut through the door of apartment 202, the apartment next to mine. Further down the hall, the harsh sound of a man and woman bickering at each other could be heard from the other side of the door of apartment 203, the apartment across from mine.

Fuck. You. Neighbors!

"Is this sort of noise normal?" Loki asked.

I sighed irritably, rubbing my eyes as I pinched the bridge of my nose, "Unfortunately... Don't worry, I'll take care of this."

I stopped in front of apartment 202 and proceeded to bang loudly on the door.

"Do you mind?!" I shouted, "Some of us have to work in the morning!"

Whatever noise that was coming from the other side of that door instantly dropped to silence. Apparently, the neighbors in 203 heard it too, because the bickering had ceased.

A devious laugh escaped Loki's lips, "I like you."

I knew he was only referring to the way I had made the entire complex shut up, but I felt a blush sting below the surface of my cheeks at his words. Fuck! Stop, stop it, he didn't mean it like that. Stop being weird, Erai.

"Yeah, well," I said, "Wait til the kids across the treeline start screaming bloody murder playing outside this summer. You'll really like me then."

He chuckled deep in his throat as we wandered the last couple of steps to my apartment; number 204. I grabbed the key to the door, another brass key that had sharper teeth and a galaxy design printed on it. Both it and the key to the complex weren't official. They'd been made by a machine at the Meijer down the street, and both had been given to me as a move-in present from Ben. Technically, I shouldn't even have these keys, but paying the $7.50 for the pair had been a lot better than getting another offical pair from the front office for thirty. Honestly, the place itself was stupidly overpriced, anyways. If there was a way to get something essential that wasn't stupidly overpriced, then I was going to find it.

I turned on the lights as I threw the door open. The place was, well, a mess. A pile of dishes sat unwashed in the sink. A wide variety of crumbs and spots were scattered over the counter leading up to the stove. Two weeks worth of clothes lay unwashed in a jumbled heap on the downstairs bathroom floor. The kitchen table was a cluttered mess of ads, coupons, random papers, and shopping bags. In the living area, we had two couches, the smallest of which piled high with random stuff from Ben. Still-packed boxes lined the wall behind it from when I had moved in. The coffee table in the middle of the room had been cleared off recently, but was still covered an a wide variety of discoloring spots and splotches from incidents of dinners past. I'd have to say the only real part of the downstairs that wasn't cluttered was the living room floor.

"What a fancy storage closet you have here," Loki commented sarcastically as he stepped inside.

I let out a laugh, "If that's what you want to call it, alright. Sorry about the mess. If I had known ahead of time that I'd be having guests, I would have cleaned the place up a bit."

"I think I'll survive."

Nodding, I looked around, puzzled. Odd. Normally she was always sitting on the chair in front of the sliding door for me to come home. She wasn't on the couch, or the recliner, or curled up under the table.

"Sif!" I called out, "I'm home!"


	6. Chapter 5: Loki

A sense of dread filled me as the words rolled off of Elijah's tongue. Sif? Sif as in Lady Sif? She was here? What would she be doing here of all places? Did she know Eli somehow? Not likely. Did Thor put her up to this? Possibly. But why? If this really is the Sif that I was familiar with, what would she be doing in a Midgardian dwelling such as this? Why?

"Sif!" Eli called again, "Where are you, girl?"

My confusion intensified at the tone of his voice. He sounded like he was calling out to a small child. Gods only know what kind of rage Lady Sif would unleash at being addressed to in such a tone, especially by a mere mortal. She'd probably run Elijah through with a long sword without a second thought.

A slight thump sounded from somewhere above, followed by a faint jingling sound. Small footsteps padded down a stairway from somewhere before a flash of grey shot around a corner in what I could only assume was the living area, and attached itself to Eli's leg. There, scrambling it's way up to his thigh, was a small, fluffy, grey cat.

"Somebody missed me," Elijah laughed, scooping the cat into his arms, "Loki, this is Sif. Sif, Loki."

Sif looked at me in a strange way; her orange eyes wide, and pupils dilated. The look in her eyes made it almost seem as if she'd seen a ghost. She stretched her neck out to sniff at me before squirming her way out of Eli's arms and proceeding to dash around the lower level of the apartment.

"I should warn you now," Eli piped up, "Sif's an unstoppable grey ball of energy. He only has three settings: eat, play, and sleep."

"You named your cat Sif?" I inquired.

"Oh, I didn't. The shelter I got her from must've had some kind of theme day where they named all of the cats they took in after Norse gods. There was Odin, Thor, Sif, and there was even a Loki. I couldn't come up with anything else that fit her, so I just settled on naming her Sif and called it good."

I chuckled slightly. Of course the real Sif wouldn't be here. She hadn't been to Earth since her and the Warriors Three little excursion to bring Thor back to Asgard after he'd been banished, and who knows how long it had been before that. Probably decades, if not centuries. It seems as though I was worried over nothing.

I made my way further inside and looked about the apartment. It was dull; perhaps even a bit ugly to a point, between the bare white walls that surrounded us from all sides and the dirty brown of the kitchen floor and cupboards. The only color that was in the room was a large, midnight blue sofa, nestled beside an ugly brown recliner and an ugly brown sofa. A small grey television sat on an ugly brown cabinet, and a coffee table with a stone base and a glass top sat in the middle of room. Around a corner was a set of stairs, which I assumed led up into the loft Eli had spoken of. The lower level was fairly well lit by the light coming in through a large sliding glass door that led onto a balcony. It may have been small and cluttered, but I had seen plenty of examples of worse living situations, and I'd only be living here for a year; mere days when compared to the four thousand years or so left in my own life span.

"On the bright side," Eli spoke up, "You won't have to worry about the mess for too long. We're not going to be here for that much longer."

I turned and raised a brow at him, "What do you mean?"

"The lease is up in a month, or so. Ben's parents have a place they're renting out that's cheaper than this apartment. It's a whole house; four bedroom, one bath, and all the land surrounding it for six hundred a month, and they're allowing us to have our pets."

"And that's cheap?"

Eli shrugged, "Ben and I are paying eight hundred a month for this tiny place."

By the Norns! I knew that humans were greedy, but eight hundred US dollars for a closet-sized space such as this? How could Elijah even afford that?

"Tell me," I said, taking a seat on the blue couch, "What do you do that allows you to afford such a place and still manage to feed yourself?"

"Oh, I work in a factory," he explained as he slipped his thick winter coat off of his shoulders, "Third shift, full time, seventeen dollars an hour, easy work; I would have been stupid not to accept the job."

"And what do you make at this factory?"

"Well, I don't make anything. I work in janitorial, so I stay busy cleaning floors most of the night, but Lakehouse Foods makes a wide variety of ranches, salad dressings, and dips."

Part of me was impressed, I'll admit. On Asgard, dressing for salad, or any condiment, was considered quite valuable. Of course, in the palace, the dressing was made fresh in the kitchen, and even though it was as common on Midgard as seeing birds in the sky, it was like I was a young boy again; about to sneak into the palace kitchen to watch the cook make it all from scratch.

On the other hand, though, it was a little anticlimactic. Of all the different lines of work humans were able to throw themselves into, this one had chosen to do what was considered to be little more than slave's work. Cleaning floors, and most of the night, as well? I wrinkled my nose at the mere thought of it. I could not fathom any reason as to why anyone would willingly subject themselves to that. I'd go mad!

"Are you hungry?" Elijah asked as he walked over to the refrigerator, "I know I could use something to eat."

"What do you have?" I asked.

"A mountain of leftover bratwurst, there are a few sushi platters that need to be eaten, beast patties, and-"

"Beast patties?" I echoed in confusion, "What in the world are beast patties?"

Elijah whirled around, beaming in excitement, "Literally everything! Pork, chicken, beef, eggs, bacon, and every spice we have in our spice cupboard; all mixed together in a gigantic burger, and they're amazing! A vegetarian's worst nightmare, but amazing."

I shrugged, "If you insist it's that divine, I'm willing to try it."

Eli grinned widely before stooping down and pulling out a plate from the bottom shelf of the refrigerator. In truth, I wasn't the least bit interested in trying his obscure concoction of a meal. In fact, I wanted nothing more than something simple and to be allowed to lie down and sleep; perhaps pull myself together in the morning, and figure where I should go from here. For tonight, however, I couldn't afford to be picky. I was being offered a warm meal and I had someplace warm to sleep, and I desired nothing more.

* * *

I stared up at the blank, white ceiling in thought. Eli had long retired up to the loft. Whether he was asleep or not, I didn't know. I was given the large blue couch to sleep on, for the time being, with a pillow tucked under my head and a thick, warm, black blanket covering me. I was still in my armour as I had no other clothing to change into to sleep in, and I didn't dare use an ounce of my magic just to conjure some up. No matter. It wasn't all that long ago that I was sitting on a cold concrete floor, recuperating from Thanos's tortures, surrounded by humans aiding my conquest who were nothing more than hypnotized drones. Compared to that, this was truly an upgrade.

But what now? I had no task, no goal, nothing to work towards other than waiting to be brought back to Asgard for my final sentencing. Anything could happen then. I could be exiled indefinitely, permanently stripped of my title. I could be imprisoned, left to toil away in a cell for the rest of my life. I could remain as I was now, banished and alone in unfamiliar territory with no way of getting by. I could be made a slave, my punishments coming in the form of physical labor and beatings at the slightest sign of disobedience. I could be executed, pinned down before all of Asgard as an axe is brought down, severing my head from my shoulders. Frigga may never allow such a thing, but even she could never change the fact that all Nine Realms probably wanted me dead anyway.

Elijah... did he even realize that he'd let a war criminal into his home? Did he not care if he had?

My hand mindlessly strayed to a shape residing within my coat. My dagger; the only thing other than my clothes that I'd been allowed to leave with. I unsheathed it an watched it gleam in the little light the night provided. How many lives had been taken by the slightest thrust of its blade? Hundreds? Thousands?

An urge I was all too familiar with began to surface.

No, I thought to myself, No, Elijah is not an enemy. He is not Thor. I don't need to-

_"Kill him..."_

The voice growled in the back of my mind like a vicious demon. His voice. So I wasn't completely free of him after all.

_"Kill him. You already have one foot in the door."_

No. I wasn't about to kill a man that had already gone through so much to help me.

_"You can redeem yourself. A small slide of that knife, one quick jab is all it will take."_

I couldn't. I wouldn't.

_"It's the mortal's life, or yours."_

It'd be mine the moment I was brought back to Asgard.

_"You can be king again..."_

It was those words that got to me. I could be king... There was still a chance to salvage something from the mess I'd gotten myself into. I still had my magic and strength, and if I did this, I'd still have Thanos's help as well. And all I had to do was kill a single mortal.

I sat up from the couch and threw the covers aside. My ears veered up to the loft, and I strained to listen. It was quiet, yet not enough so to know for sure if Eli was asleep yet or not. He'd mentioned something about trying to stay awake as long as possible so he could get enough sleep during the day in order to be prepared for work the next evening. I didn't dare try calling out to him, in case he was awake.

As silently as I could manage, I crept up the stairs leading to the loft. The first thing that came into sight was a large bed; so large it nearly took up the entire loft. Really? This Midgardian basked in the luxury of a bed that looked to be made for royalty whilst I was made to sleep on a simple couch? Who was the god in this house?!

I breathed a sigh of relief at the sight I beheld as I reached the top step. Eli was sprawled out on his back on the right side of the bed near the edge. His cell phone still sat in his hand with the screen facing up. My guess was that he had nodded off reading, or watching some silly video, or whatever else humans used those peculiar electronic devices for.

At least this would be easy.

Slowly I made my way up beside Elijah until I was standing over him, the blade of my daggar positioned just over his heart.

"Quick, painless," I muttered under my breath, "This is my thanks for all that you've done for me."

As I raised my fist, ready to plunge the blade deep into Eli's chest, a shape pounced on top of him... a grey, fluffy shape. Sif. She gazed up at me with wide amber eyes, reaching a paw up to swat at my daggar. It was almost as if she was pleading for me to spare her precious master.

I leaned down until I was eye level with the pesky feline, "This does not concern you."

With a flick of my wrist, I shoved Sif to the vacant side of the bed, where she curled up and folded her paws beneath her. She didn't take her eyes off of me, though.

I glanced down to Elijah's slumbering form, relieved that Sif's little act of heroism hadn't disturbed him. I steadied my breathing as my breaths started turning into slight hisses. One quick jab, and it'd all be over in a matter of seconds.

_Buzzzzzzz! Buzzzzzzz!_

I nearly cursed under my breath as the darkness of the loft was illuminated by the bright glow of Eli's phone. A brief glimpse showed a picture of Morgan beneath a text that read, 'Morgan is Calling...' At that moment, I did the only thing that I could think of to do: drop to the floor.

The bed let out a creak as Eli stirred.

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me..." I heard him groan, "... Hello?"

_"I'm sorry, did I wake you up?"_ I could hear Morgan say faintly over the phone.

"What do you think? It's three in the morning!"

_"Sorry. I was just calling to let you know that Ben and I made it back all right."_

"Yay... can I go back to sleep now?"

_"Sure, I just thought I'd let you know."_

"Mm-humm, bye."

_"Bye!"_

And with that, I heard Eli hang up the phone and toss it aside. The bed let out another creak and the sheets shifted. I held my breath as I listened, waiting to hear his feet hit the floor, for him look over the edge of the bed, something.

After what felt like an eternity, the silence of the loft was replaced with Eli's light snores. I let out a relieved sigh. Gods only know how I was going to explain this to him if he found me lying here with my daggar.

It wasn't until then that I allowed the gravity of the situation sink in. I was ready to kill Eli on the off chance I'd be able to be king agin, yet I had no power. Sure, I had my magic and my strength, but nothing more. I didn't have an army or the Tesseract. If the Avengers just so happened to show up, I would be powerless to stop them, especially if Thor would be fighting along side them. That would make for an awkward encounter.

I had come ridiculously close to making a terrible mistake.

* * *

I didn't sleep the rest of the night. My heart still pounded in my chest over what had just transpired. I had almost killed Elijah. Without so much as a second thought. It was clear that I was not as confident in my ability to stay out of trouble as I had been hoping. Not only that, it was apparent that Thanos still had some form of control over me; manipulating me according to his own agenda. And what good was it? The Tesseract was locked away in Asgard's weapons vault, and I was no longer of any use to Thanos or the Chitauri.

I was alone, I was poweless, and, in the state I was in, I was dangerous.

My first thought was to get up and walk out of the apartment, but I knew better than to show a savior such blatant disrespect. At the very least, I had to wait until Eli woke up to tell him, and this time I would leave no matter what he tried to say.

And so I waited, sitting on the couch, listening for the slightest indication that Elijah would be waking soon. I watched the clock on the microwave, watching as the numbers gradually changed. Eight o'clock passed, then nine, then ten, and then eleven. Gods, just how long did he intended to sleep?!

Before the clock could reach twelve, I heard Eli take a deep breath in and the bed groan. Please, please, please get up and come down! The faster we can get this over with, the better.

The sound of feet hitting the floor above was music to my ears. They shuffled around the bed and gradually made their way down the steps. Eli was dressed in a drab grey t-shirt and black sweatpants. He looked a little worse for wear, his blond hair in a wild mess, and his eyes still heavy with sleep. Sif shot down the steps after him, nearly causing him to trip as she darted around him and took off into the kitchen.

"Good morning," Eli said tiredly, his eyes closing as they tried to focus on me. His eyebrows lifted, as if they were trying to pull the last traces of grogginess off of his eyelids, "Did you sleep well?"

No. No, I hadn't. As far as I was concerned, I didn't sleep well at all!

"All right, I guess," was my only response, "Elijah, I need to speak with you."

Eli let out a groan, and then a slight chuckle as he wandered into the kitchen, "Why do I feel like this is going to be the same talk we had yesterday?"

"It is," I said, standing up to approach him, "I really can't stay here."

"Let me guess. Thanos?"

"It's more than just Thanos. It isn't safe for you to be around me."

"Well, you and I have been around each other for the past twenty four hours, and you haven't tried to kill me yet."

My breath hitched in my throat, "Yes, I have."

My statement made Elijah turn and shoot a questing glance over his shoulder as he struggled to open a can of cat food.

"Last night," I continued, "Something in me just... It made me go up to the loft while you were sleeping. I had my daggar, but your phone went off before I could do anything. You haven't a clue how close you were to dying by my hand."

Eli was quiet for a moment before he spoke, "Did you duck under the bed, or something?"

"Sort of."

"Huh, I was wondering what that thump was."

"Don't you get it?!" I snapped, charging forward and gripping his shoulders, "I had every intention on killing you last night, and all it took was one tiny whisper from Thanos! He's in my head, and so long as he's there you and everyone I come into contact with are in danger." I took a few deep breaths, and my voice lowered, "Does it not concern you that these hands that are gripping you now could snap your neck without a second thought? That all it would have taken, last night, was one quick thrust of a knife, and you'd be naught but a corpse now?"

Elijah stared at me, wide eyed and mouth agape. His shoulders were tense the moment I'd grabbed a hold of them. If he hadn't been fully awake before, he definitely was now. Now, I could only hope that he was afraid; well afraid so that I could leave and he'd have no qualms about letting me.

Suddenly, Eli's eyes narrowed challengingly, "Then do it."

At that moment, it felt like a sword had plunged into my chest. Did he just...? Surely not!

"What?" the word passed through my lips in a bewildered whisper.

"Snap my neck without a second thought," Elijah spoke plainly, "One quick thrust of a knife, and it'll all be over. You know you talk a lot about you or Thanos killing me like it's the number one thing on your guys' to-do list, yet you haven't acted on it. I'm really doubting your commitment; you're having _second thoughts._ "

I was left speachless as he continued.

"Now that I think about it, you've had plenty of chances to kill me; plenty of railings you could have tossed me off of, plenty of cars I could have been pushed in front of, you could have easily made me crash my car at any given time on the drive home, not to mention you have your godly strength and magic and your knife, yet you still haven't killed me. And I think I know why."

Eli took a step back, my hands detaching from his shoulders.

"It's because you have a heart," he stated, "You have a conscience. You know killing me would be wrong, and you don't want to do it. Maybe it's because you're afraid of what might happen to you when you're brought back to Asgard, or maybe it's because you actually care, but whatever the reason, it's stronger than whatever Thanos is trying to tell you."

I was stunned. He was right. A few short minutes ago, I was ready to say whatever I had to to convince Elijah that it wasn't safe for me to be here. Now I was the one standing wide-eyed and slackjawed before him. I found myself listening to his words; some part of my mind clinging to them like a lifeline. He really was skilled in the ways of a silver tongue.

Eli threw his arms up in a shrug as his expression softened.

"If you wanna leave, that's fine," he said, "Who am I to stop you? But you don't have to do this alone just because you're scared of Thanos."

I found myself shaking my head as a numb feeling set in, "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why are you treating me like a person?" my question made a perplexed stare settle on Eli's face, and I continued, "Normally nobody wants anything to do with me. Loki the Liesmith. Loki the Silver Tongue. I'm a monster, yet you accept me and welcome me as you would any Midgardian, and I want to know why."

Within seconds, Eli's expression fell from confusion to something like sadness. A sort of brokenness that I'd never seen before shone like a scar in his crystal blue eyes.

"Why?" he echoed, "Because I know what it's like to be labeled as a monster. To be hated for no reason. I spent most of my life in school being bullied out of a class of one hundred and fifty some odd people."

I rolled my eyes. I thought for a moment that Elijah was actually about to get on my level, that I had actually found someone who genuinely understood what I had been going through all these years, but no. Humans were still humans; full of petty problems that no one from Asgard could relate to.

"Is that all it was?" I growled, "Bullying? You think the microscopic amount of time you were bullied can hold a candle to over a thousand years of carless jests and neglect? How truly pathetic! I'm the monster that parents tell their children about at night. I was abandoned and left to die at birth. I spent my entire life living in the shadow of my older brother. My entire life I was told I was born to be what I will never have the chance to be. I've killed many, and I've harmed many more. And there is still a chance that upon my return to Asgard, I will be locked away in a cell for the rest of my days. Do you know how long that is? Four thousand years! And if not imprisoned, I'll surely be executed! Now tell me in what way can your little sob story possibly amount to that?!"

I glared down at Elijah, waiting for a response. That look of sadness had turned into something a little bit more. Sympathy. Was this pathetic mortal actually feeling sorry for me?

"Loki..." his tone was apologetic, "I'm sorry. That must have been absolute Hell for you to have gone through... but I can't say that my life has been all that different."

He had to be joking. There was no way a mortal's problems could ever amount to that of a god's.

"You're right," Eli continued, "I haven't killed anyone, or hurt anyone like you have. I spent my life being alienated by my peers. Either my thoughts and well-being were unimportant, or I just didn't exist to them. I was only ever there when they needed something to laugh at or someone to pick on. I've faced every form or abuse in the book. I spend my life questioning every single word that came out of everyone's mouth, because my trust had been betrayed so many times I didn't know how to trust anymore. People have wanted me dead... I'm pretty sure there are people that still want me dead. I've been withdrawn, and even suicidal.

None of this might seem like much to a god. In fact, I'm pretty sure you'd let yourself to live out the life I've lived to avoid going through that again, but I'm also pretty sure the problems of a human and the problems of a god are way different. Like, if I were to die, right now, I'd just be another statistic. If you died, I'm pretty sure the balance of the whole universe would be thrown off."

His comment forced a chuckle out of me, "The God of Mischief would not be missed..."

"You don't know that, because you're more than the God of Mischief. You're a son, a brother, and a friend. Someone, somewhere would miss you; is probably missing you right now, and you just don't see it."

Elijah stooped down and emptied the squishy brown contents of the cat food can into Sif's food bowl.

"The door's over there," he said, gesturing towards it with a plastic spoon, "You're always welcome back, if you want. Just hit the buzzer to my room number at the front door."

I turned towards the the door, it's ugly brown color filling me with a sense of dread. All of a sudden, it felt as though I was being banished all over again. My mind dwelled on what was said over the course of these past few minutes; less about my and Eli's haunting past and more about Thanos. He was still there, and so long as I knew that, something like what had happened last night could possibly happen again.

But...

I strode towards the door and stood toe to toe with it. The very sight of it made my chest tighten, as if I were about to pass through into an entirely different universe. I glanced down at the brassy color of the knob and the deadbolt lock above it.

_Click!_

The sound of the deadbolt locking into place filled the painful silence that had enveloped the apartment. The sound made Eli flinch slightly before he slowly stood up and turned around.

I shot him a playful smirk.

"The door was unlocked. Literally anyone could have walked in at any given time last night."

Eli let out a laugh, "Yeah, you'll find I'm not very good about locking the doors. So you're staying?"

I rolled my eyes, "Well, no. I merely locked the door and stood here so we might be able to have a rousing discussion about home security."

My comment made Elijah laugh harder as he tossed the empty cat food can into a nearby garbage bin.

"Well, alright then," he said, "Some ground rules should be made clear, if you're staying. Firstly, keep the mischief making to a minimum. I realize that the God of Mischief is bound to make mischief, but I'd rather not get evicted before the lease is up."

I nodded in acceptance, "I think I'll be able to manage."

"Secondly, anything in the pantry, fridge, or freezer is fair game for meals. If you want something specific, let me know before Friday night, so it can go onto the grocery list."

"Alright, anything else?"

"Thirdly," Eli approached and stood toe to toe with me, "Stop freaking out about Thanos. I know you're worried he's going to drop through the roof any freaking second, but I'm not about to have you threatening to leave every other day."

"Fair enough. And?"

"And lastly, if you spontaneously decide you want to leave again, go ahead and do so. This place ain't going anywhere, and so long as it's between 9 AM and 9 PM during the week, I'll be home to answer the door if you decide to come back."

I nodded once more with acceptance. Fairly simple rules to follow, it was clear that Elijah wasn't expecting too much from me. It definitely wasn't like Asgard, and the rules I had to follow as one of Odin's sons. Don't slouch, don't drag your feet, always hold your head high, whatever you do should be for the good of the Nine Realms; things a prince and a future king had to concern himself with. Here, though, I was an outcast. I was little more than a man named Loki, and with my limited understanding of the ways of Midgard, I was thankful for such lenient rules.

Making my way back towards Elijah, I stuck out my hand.

"I apologize for the things I said to you before," I stated, "It was uncalled for."

"It's okay," he smiled as he accepted the hand, "This is good. I think we're getting to know each other a bit better."

This was true, though not in the most equal of senses. Over the course of the past twenty four hours, Eli knew a great deal about me; my past ambitions, basic information about my family, and now the darker, more personal aspects that even Thor knew very little about. And what did I know about Elijah? Next to nothing other than his utter foolishness and stubbornness, his silver tongue, and the things that haunted him from his past. Then again, it'd only been a day. There was still an entire year left for me to figure out who I was dealing with.

Eli looked me over and his face contorted slightly with concern.

"Did you get any sleep at all last night?" he asked.

"No. No, I didn't," I admitted with a sigh.

"I figured, because your eyes have dark circles around them. I bet trying to sleep in that armor didn't help any."

In truth it hadn't. My armor was a gold casing which covered my shoulders down to the elbow, and around my torso. Not to mention part of the armor that covered my chest felt slightly caved from when Thor had set Mjolnir on it back when the Bifrost was destroyed, causing it to chafe just as bad as when I'd first aquired it. I couldn't even feel the sofa beneath me. All I could feel was metal against the tunic underneath.

Of course... removing the armor was no easy feat for me. I only had a vague idea of where the clasps holding it in place were, and they were so far out of my reach, that it normally took magic to undo them on my own, and that was only whenever I was injured in battle. Most of the time I had servants to undo these clasps for me at the palace, servants that I no longer had and was unlikely to have again.

"If I may, could I ask you for a favor?" I asked.

"Sure," Eli chirped, "What do you need?"

"If you could undo the clasps holding my armor together, I would gladly appreciate it. There should be two on either side of my shoulders somewhere."

I could sense Elijah scanning the area as I turned my back towards him. It only took a few drawn out seconds before I heard a click, and my left shoulder was free, and the same went for the right. I pulled the piece up over my head, and tossed it aside, causing it to hit the ground with a massive clang.

"Alright," I sighed, "Now there should be three clasps on both sides of my waist, and two more for each shoulder."

"What were you doing before you got banished?" Eli asked between clasps, "Preparing for battle."

"This is what I'd wear every day around Asgard. My battle armour is much worse."

With one final click, the seams of my armor opened and I took a deep breath in. The damn thing could be like a corset sometimes, restricting movements causing stiffness and limiting my ability to breathe. Sometimes I loathed the way my clothes were crafted to hug every corner of my body under the pretense that bulkier armor and loose-fitting garments took away from the elegant look that was expected from a member of the royal family, and made me look like a commoner. Bah! I was less than a commoner now, so nobody would care if I were to lounge around in my pants and a tunic. I could finally relax.

"Ugh!" I could hear Elijah groan as we worked the piece off of my torso, "How long have you been wearing that?"

"Ever since my sentencing," I responded, "So probably close to a day and a half."

"Well, that armor must not let your body breathe at all. No offense, but you reek!"

It was then that the smell hit me; the revolting stench of sweat and body odor. I'd been denied the luxury of a bath when Thor had taken me back to Asgard, so it'd likely been a good week since I'd properly bathed.

Eli strode over to a nearby basket and dug out a plain black shirt and sweat pants.

"I know they're not much, and they might be a little short and baggy on you, but it's better than nothing. There's a shower upstairs. Feel free to use it. I can throw your clothes in the wash in the meantime."

I nodded and accepted the clothes from his hands. I gave the massive metal heap in the corner that was my armour a passing glance as I made my way up the stairs.

_Good riddance!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER
> 
> Okay, I NEED a disclaimer for this one.
> 
> Firstly, I'd like to apologize for Loki's out of characterness throughout the story. It's just a thing that's going to happen, and is going to be there.
> 
> Secondly, based on this chapter, I am no way implying that Thanos will actually be making an appearance in this story, though he will be mentioned a few times. On top of me having an extremely limited knowledge about him, that particular scene is a very good example of how I'm a lot better at coming up with reactions and decisions in writing than I am actually speaking to people. If this had actually happened I probably would have just sulked, said 'Okay...' leave Loki behind, and live to regret it for the rest of my life.
> 
> Sorry, but THAT'S NOT AN OPTION HERE!
> 
> -BlueRaven 666


	7. Chapter 6: Eli

 Phone.

Wallet.

Keys.

Lunch.

The mental checklist was always the same on the nights I had to go to work. I'd made it a habit, knowing that if I didn't go through it, I'd forget something. And I'd run through it again, and again, and again from the time I started putting on my boots to just as I was about to walk out to my car.

I was bundled up in my winter coat, which bore resemblance to a fluffy, black sleeping bag with a faux fur lined hood than a coat, really. My feet were stuffed into a pair of navy blue winter boots that thumped heavily against the floor with each step. Underneath all of that, I was in a pair of work jeans, splattered with bleach stains and the ghosts of random condiments from past spills I had cleaned, and a simple blue t-shirt. I was thankful Lakehouse Foods didn't have a specific dress code or uniform that I was required to wear, because they'd be wrecked within the week.

I ran through my mental checklist one last time. Phone? In the front left pocket of my jeans. Wallet? In the right back pocket of my jeans. Keys? On the table, ready to go. Lunch? Also on the table ready to go. Looks like I was all set.

I could tell that tonight was going to be brutal. I had only managed to sleep until around noon, and I hadn't managed to sneak in a nap at all within the day. Past experience told me I would either be dragging my feet until morning, or I'd be spending twenty minutes or so slumped over on the toilet in the lady's restroom, catching my Z's in there, and God help me the day I got caught.

My gaze veered towards the living room and settled on the sleeping silhouette lying on the couch. Loki hadn't woken up since he'd taken a shower and got something to eat. Frankly, I was just glad he wasn't freaking out on me like he had this morning, and yesterday at the hotel. Making two days in a row now that he had panicked over this Thanos guy, I was pretty rattled when Loki confessed that he had nearly killed me in my sleep, and that my phone was practically the only thing that saved me. Guess I owed Morgan my life for that one even though I'd been about ready to wring her neck when she called.

Challenging death threats were nothing new to me, though. When you grow up around a hundred and fifty some odd people who all seem to want you dead, you get used to someone saying they're going to kill you in your sleep. I knew that I was pushing my luck in challenging the God of Mischief to this, but I could tell just from his desperation to leave that he never intended to do any harm. All he needed was someone who could encourage him to stand up to Thanos, someone who cared, and encouraging others was something I was pretty good at.

I walked over to where Loki slept on the couch and gently shook his shoulder. It took a couple of tries before he finally stirred and rolled over to face me. His face seemed to contort in confusion as he took in the darkness of the apartment, the only light coming from the one in the kitchen.

"What time is it?" he asked groggily, his mouth stretching in a yawn.

"Almost nine o'clock," I replied, "I'm about to head out. Figured you should know."

Loki nodded slightly before pulling the blanket over his shoulder and rolling back onto his side.

"I should be back by 8:30 tomorrow morning," I called to him as I snatched up my keys from the table along with the brown paper sack that held my lunch.

"Have fun..." he called back quietly, his mind clearly long gone with the drowsiness that was consuming him.

Fun. If that's what you want to call it...

I ran through my mental checklist one last time before turning towards the door, but not before Sif could run up to me and pounce on my leg. She always made me wonder what the hell they did to her in the foster homes she'd gone to before I adopted her. According to the girls at the shelter, she'd been in and out of shelters and foster homes her entire life, and she was only eight months old. She was always like this whenever I went anywhere, whether it was to work or another room in the apartment.

Petting her gently, I worked her claws out of my jeans.

"No, Sif," I said quietly, trying not to disturb Loki's sleeping, "You gotta stay here. Go cuddle with Loki."

And with that, I turned back towards the door and attempted to pull it open, only to be stopped by the deadbolt; a reoccurring theme since I'd first moved into this apartment. Being thwarted by a locked door. Locking it behind me again as I left just came out of habit.

Many have asked if I was happy working where I worked. In truth, I'm not sure if I even knew the answer to that question.

* * *

Was I happy with the work? Sure. Sweeping and mopping floors was simple. It's not like they expected me to operate a forklift, or anything. Did I like the pay? Hell, yeah I did! Seventeen dollars an hour just to mop floors? I'll do it! Did I like the people that I worked with? Sure. Most people left me alone and let me do my own thing around the factory. There weren't many who went out of their way to breathe down my neck over something they didn't like...

Did I like walking in on a two hundred and fifty gallon dressing spill? Absolutely fucking not! But that's Monday for you; full of the biggest fucking mess that can possibly be made, and apparently one of the forklift operators decided to be a bit reckless and spill an entire drum of vanilla greek yogurt dressing. At least I knew what I'd be doing for about four hours tonight.

The spill was so bad that I had to bypass my usual routine of sanitizing the floors and filling chemial jugs and dive straight into the mess; a rare occurrence, and not at all a pleasant one. Just hearing about it from my supervisor made me think worse case scenario, and when I finally got a look at it first hand, I realized I was right. The dressing had started to spread out from it's condensed puddle, or lake I should say, and had moved under the surroundng shelves and pallets. It was slippery, causing the wheels of any forklifts stupid enough to attempt to drive through it to spin. Above all, the mess had been made in the cooler. It was a given that no janitor or sanitation worker would escape this without getting greek dressing all over their hands and aprons, and in a room that was thirty six degrees Fahrenheit, at best, cleaning this up was going to be miserable.

The operation started with urging any forklift operators out of and away from the spill. It would increase the mess in the process, but it was better than having one of those machines stuck in the middle of it. Then the lot of us paired up, half armed with shovels, the others with squeegees, and together we began moving the mess into garbage cans. Within minutes, the dressing managed to work its way onto my gloves, causing my fingers to stick together, and my palms to stick to the shovel. After an hour, my fingers went numb.

After about two hours of constant squeegeeing, shoveling, and a hell of a lot of bitching, the eight of us that were cleaning had managed to get a majority of th greek yogurt dressing off of the floor. With nose burning, cheeks stinging, and body shivering, I stripped myself of my gloves and apron and stepped out of the cooler for a break. Normally the heat of the main floor of the factory left me sweaty and uncomfortably warm, but I was none so glad as to let that heat slip through the fabric of my hoodie and jeans. I breathed into my hands, hoping to have at least some feeling come back to them. My nose ran, everything else burned, and the wrost part was I wasn't even done yet. There was still a shit-ton of mopping to be done, and likely some dressing that still had to be wiped up off of the walls near where the spill occurred.

There was only one good thing about all of this: it was almost break time.

"Havin' fun?"

The voice made me lift my head, my ears straining against a pair of earplugs to drown out the deafening noise of the factory's machines. I was greeted by a middle aged women, stocky in build, much like myself, with long dirty blonde hair, and brown eyes. I wasn't entirely sure what her name was, but everyone around Lakehouse Foods just called her Sparkles.

"If by 'fun' you mean 'freezin' my ass off in the cooler while every janitor and I are tryin' to clean up a drum's worth of greek yogurt dressing up off of the floor'," I vented, "Then yes."

"Yeah, I heard somethin' about that," Sparkles stated, "That's gotta suck."

"Eh, I've dealt with worse."

And that I had. That spill could have been worse. That drum could have had two hundred and fifty gallons of vinaigrette in it, or two hundred and fifty gallons of molasses. Thinking about that made me thankful it was just greek yogurt that was spilled, and nothing that would have required a gas mask or chemical to break it down just to get it up off of the floor.

"Did you have a good weekend?" Sparkles asked, "I know you said somethin' about goin' to that convention down in Lansing."

"Yeah," I nodded, "I had a lot of fun. Made a new friend. He's pretty nice."

"Yeah? Just you wait. You two are goin' to become smitten with each other in no time."

I smiled sheepishly at her, "Stop it. We're just friends."

Sparkles shot me a grin, "Sure... You say that now."

I knew her tasting was all in good fun. She'd allowed me to vent to her over two previous break ups, and wasn't one to sugarcoat anything. If I'd made the right call, she backed me up. If I'd made the wrong call, she'd let it be known. To me, she was like a best friend, mother, and big sister all in one.

"Really," I said, "He's just a friend."

"If you say so," Sparkles sniggered before turning her attention to the cooler, "How's it comin' in there?"

I rolled my eyes and groaned, "It's comin', I guess. There's still a lot to get done."

"Hey, job security, right?"

'Job security' was starting to become my least favorite term at work; normally only used whenever I had to clean up someone else's mess. I had plenty of work that I had to get done on a day to day basis, especially on Sunday nights that bled into Monday mornings when there had been zero janitors working over the weekend. The locker rooms were always trashed, the garbage bins were always full, and the floors were always in desperate need of being swept and mopped. The last thing I needed was a massive spill on top of that.

"I guess so," I agreed begrudgingly.

Sparkles nodded, "Yeah, well everyone appreciates the work you do around here. Keep it up!"

With a pat to my shoulder, she turned and headed back to her position at her line, but her words stuck with me. I'd been getting a lot more credit for the work I did around Lakehouse ever since my superior Crystal had left to get knee replacement surgery, and ever since Chad, a janitor that had been hired in before me, had been fired. Only two janitors remained: Mitch, an older fellow that had only been here for about a month, and me. The appreciation I was being shown gave me new energy to do better at my job.

And I used the energy provided by Sparkles to suck up whatever chills and numbness that remained in my face and fingers and charged back into the cooler.

* * *

 

7:30 AM couldn't have come fast enough.

The spill in the cooler hadn't been completely taken care of until after my five o'clock lunch break. Since the clean up had taken longer than expected, any previous plans that I'd had for the night were thrown out the window and I went straight to work on sanitizing the floors and filling up chemical jugs. The formulation decks were less than pleased with my extreme tardiness, having to limit their use of the chemicals that they needed to wash of their equipment the entire night, but better late than never.

By the time I had finished what I should have been able to get done that night, I had just enough time to complete the paperwork I needed to fill out for my department; signing off on the very few chores I had completed, and placing the papers in the basket for my supervisor.

I leaned back in the chair I sat in and, for the first time in several hours, allowed myself to catch my breath. It was only then that I became aware of how tired and sore I was. My arms and back were aching from the constant shoveling and mopping, and I felt like I could fall asleep right then and there. I was reminded of how little sleep I'd gotten the day before, and how I still had the morning traffic to deal with on the way home.

A warm shower and good day's rest would be very much welcome.

I turned as I heard the office door swing open and my supervisor, Aaron, step inside.

"Hey, just the person I wanted to talk to!" he said, trying to put some energy in his otherwise monotone voice.

"Oh boy, I'm in trouble," I grumbled sarcastically, rubbing the nagging drowsiness from my eyes.

Aaron chuckled, "Hardly. I wanted to see if you were interested in getting a licence to drive a forklift and take over Chad's position.

I laughed at the statment.

"No, no, no, no-no, no, no-no..." I chanted, "Don't trust me to drive one of those things. I'll accidentally drive it off a cliff, just watch."

"I just wanted to check with you first before I started taking applications," Aaron stated.

"Well, I definitely appreciate the offer, but I already have a hard time maneuvering in the tight spaces around here with my janitor's cart. I don't think I can do a forklift."

Aaron nodded, "Can I have my chair back, now?"

"Sure," I snickered, forcing myself up and out of the chair with a slight grunt, "See ya later tonight then?"

"Yup. See ya later."

As far as bosses go, Aaron wasn't bad. In the eight, almost nine, months I'd been working at Lakehouse, I'd only ever been nagged at twice; once when he had caught me sitting down on the job, and once to warn me of my attendance. Of course, it was just my luck to be hired in just before cold and flu season hit, and the drastic changes in temperature when fall turned into winter in Michigan had caused my seasonal allergies to flare, resulting in six sick days within three months.

I might have been a Michigander, but I was not built for Michigan.

* * *

_Ow... ow... ugh... ow..._

The chant followed me from the parking lot at work all the way to my apartment door. The greek yogurt dressing spill had taken a lot out of me. Spending six hours of my shift doing pretty much nothing but shoveling and mopping wasn't how I'd wanted my Monday to go, and the corn making its presence known on my right foot wasn't helping. But at least I was out for the day. I was home.

I unlocked the door and was immediately greeted by Sif, who sprinted towards me and attached herself to my left knee. She had the same look in her eyes that she had every morning; that look that said, "Yay! You're home! I'm hungry. Please feed me!"

Sure enough, her bowl was empty with nothing left but a few blobs of half-dry wet food and a few smudges of gravy. I was quick to find a new can and empty its contents into her bowl before stripping myself of my coat, boots, socks, pants, hoodie, and t-shirt, leaving nothing except my boxers and binder covering me. Crawling in bed and passing out sounded heavenly right now. Then again, so did a shower. I probably reeked of chemicals and vanilla greek yogurt dressing anyway, but I really didn't care, and in that moment I could only bear to carry myself up the stairs to the loft, squeeze past the narrow space between the bed and the wall, and crawl under the covers.

It wasn't until I was settled in bed with my head resting against the pillows that I realized that something was off. I typically slept on the right side of Ben's enormous bed, sprawled out at a slight angle to accommodate for my extreme height. Okay, five foot, ten wasn't really extreme, per se, but it did call for some unusual sleeping positions. Ordinarily, the bed felt huge, like it could take all the tossing and turning and kicking I could dish out in my sleep, but now I just felt claustrophobic, like I had gone from sleeping on a queen-sized mattress back to a full.

I rolled onto my back, trying to write it off as my imagination, when my shoulder landed on something lying behind me. Any other time this happened, it was normally Sif that became the victim of an accidental squishing, but this felt harder... sturdier, I should say, like solid muscle. My head instantly snapped to the right, and I instantly found myself nose to nose with the cause of my claustrophobia.

Waves of black hair spread out over the body pillow under his head, blending in with the black pillow case covering it. The black and white blanket combined with the white sheets covering the mattress made it easy for him to blend into the bedding with his pale complexion. On top of me being dead tired, I could understand how I'd missed him when I first came up to the loft.

Laying there, still sleeping soundly with the blanket pulled up over his chin, was Loki.

It took me a moment to shove my exhaustion aside and wrap my head around the situation. Had it been Ben, Morgan, or any of my other friends lying there, I wouldn't have cared and gone to sleep regardless, but this was a whole different level of weird. Here was a guy that I hadn't even known for a whole three days sleeping in the bed I slept in, and not just a guy, but a god; a god of mischief. Several sides of me were waging war all at once. Part of me was telling me to just ignore it and let him sleep; move to the couch, if nothing else. Then there was part of me going, "What the actual _fuck_?! Who does this guy think he is, sleeping in _my_ bed?!"

In that moment I could only sit up and ask the most basic question my exhausted mind could come up with.

"Loki?" I tapped his shoulder, rousing him from his sleep, "What are you doing in my bed?"

Loki lifted his head off of the pillows and looked at me tiredly before lowering it again and rolling onto his back.

"I wasn't fairing well on the couch," he sighed, "So I moved to where I could spread out more."

I couldn't argue with him on that. That couch wasn't the greatest of places to sleep. Even I bore with it for about a month before taking over the bed in the loft, but Ben had given me permission to do so. Before that, I'd been stuck sleeping on the even smaller brown love seat; now piled high with a number of my and Ben's belongings. Now that was murder, as the only position that allowed me to be comfortable enough to sleep involved one leg being draped ungracefully over the back of it, and the other slung over the edge with my foot planted on the floor. My head and my back took up everything else. My mind went to Loki being stuck in such a frustrating predicament, and I knew if he hadn't had a valid reason to kill me the other night, he definitely would have then.

"Yeah, well if you don't want to deal with me tossing and turning every other minute, I'd suggest you get up, or something," I said.

"Or... you could sleep on the couch, instead," Loki countered.

"Not gonna happen. I can't sleep on that thing anymore."

"Then I suppose you'll just have to wait until I have awakened fully to claim the bed for the day."

I rolled my eyes as I laughed, "Okay, but if I accidentally kick you in my sleep, don't say I didn't warn you."

Loki scoffed, "Then don't say you didn't have other options."

Resigning myself to sharing the bed I rolled over onto my side, pulling my share of the covers over myself. I snuggled deeper into the mattress and pillows as I closed my eyes and tried to clear my head of this rather awkward situation. It wasn't every day that I shared a bed with someone who was almost a complete stranger. Even with past relationships, it would be weeks before I was comfortable with just sleeping next to a significant other. But that wasn't what Loki was. If anything, he was a guest in my house; an acquaintance. My previous statement to Sparkles was practically a lie. Loki and I weren't friends. I mean, we could be, but I wasn't so sure he saw it that way.

I felt the left side of the bed shift and the portion of blanket on that side of me relax from its taut state. Judging from the way the bed still dipped on that side and the sudden feeling being watched crashing over me, Loki was watching me, and I tried not to squirm under the possibility of his gaze.

"I don't understand," I suddenly heard him say.

"Hmm?" was all I could muster out as sleep began to pull me deep into to its abyss.

"How can you lie there and sleep without any qualms about me trying to kill you the other night? Why aren't you afraid of me."

I managed a small shrug, hoping with every fiber of my being that I wasn't going to have to have another talk with him about this.

"I believe there is a word for people like you on Midgard," he continued, "I think it's what is referred to as a moron."

If I had the energy left to do so, I would have laughed. He sounded just like Ben; jesting, insulting me for being so nonchalant about a rather serious situation.

I could only give a lazy grin.

"I know, I'm a moron," I sighed, "A complete and utter... moron."

And with at, let my mind slip away into the depths of sleep.

* * *

The sun was still shining through the blinds when I woke up, and judging from the way I was ungracefully sprawled across the bed, Loki must have been somewhere downstairs doing his own thing. That, or I must have kicked him out of the bed at some point. Neither came as a surprise to me, or would have come as a surprise to me. It was likely nearing the end of the afternoon, judging from the golden color the rays of the sun had taken on. I felt well rested, and now was as good a time as any to get my butt in gear...

Until I realized that I couldn't move.

My head, my arms, even my fingers and toes didn't budge from their frozen position no matter how hard I might have tried to move them. Was this what sleep paralysis was like? Interesting, but not alarming, as I knew from stories I had heard about online that it wouldn't last very long. I just had to wait for the rest of my body to get with the program.

As I laid there and let my thoughts wander, I heard footsteps making their way up the stairs. God, it couldn't be that late, and I hoped Loki didn't think it'd be necessary to have to wake me up.

Sure enough, he began making his accent from the living room, his steps quiet, probably from trying to aviod startling me awake. However, it didn't take long before his appearance started to unnerve me. His hair was a mess, as if he'd just rolled out of bed. Not that he'd made it apparent that he was high maintenance in the short time he'd been living here, but when we'd first met he did seem to care a lot about his appearance, trying to keep himself clean and keeping his hair neatly combed back out of his face. He held a dark expression, as if something was horribly wrong, and as the rest of him came into view I felt a surge of panic shoot through me as he reached into the long overcoat he was wearing and pulled out a dagger.

Don't tell me he was really going to...

My terror intensified as he slowly approached the bed, gracefully and silently gliding through the tight corners and coming up alongside the bed to where I was. I tried to move. I did my best to try to tell him that he didn't have to listen to Thanos, but my jaw remained clenched shut. Then a thought hit me that made my fear hit me full throttle. What if this wasn't sleep paralysis? What if Loki had used his magic to put some spell over me to make it so I couldn't move?

The fear coursing through me made a lump form in my throat, and I felt tears burn in my eyes as he loomed over me with a terrifyingly blank expression on his face. My breathing picked up as he slowly leaned over me, one arm supporting his weight beside my head and the other raising the blade until it hovered directly over my head, aiming between my eyes.

"I warned you..." he said, his voice lacking all form of emotion.

A sob escaped me. I tried to plead with him. I tried to tell him he could leave and I wouldn't try to say or do anything more to stop him, if only he'd spare me, but all of my pleading and begging came out in indistinguishable sobs and whimpers.

I closed my eyes tightly. God, I hope this is as fast and painless as it seems in the movies.

"Eli..." I heard him purr, a hand slipping under my head, the tips of his finger pressing slightly into my scalp, "Eli... Eli! Eli!" The soft, ominous tone in his voice slowly grew louder, almost frantic, "Eli, open your eyes! Eli! Open your goddamn eyes! Eli!"

His yelling was horrific; the loudest I'd ever heard.

I only allowed one eye to peek open. Through the blurriness caused by my tears, I saw the blade of the dagger plunge downward, and my eyes clenched shut again as I fet the sharp pain of the cold metal hit my skin.

" _Elijah_!"

As if by some miracle, the ability to move came back to my limbs. The first thing I found myself doing as my eyes snapped open is letting out a blood curdling shriek as I swung an arm at Loki. He easily caught it in his hand... the hand that was holding the dagger...

_Was_...

There was no dagger now, only his one hand that was supporting my head, and the other that had a firm grip on my arm. The blank look on his face had morphed into one heavy with fear and worry.

I laid there in his grasp, trembing, sweating, gasping, crying, utterly confused and terrified.

"L-Loki...?" I managed to say in a hesitant yet terrified whine.

"I'm here," he said firmly, "You were having a nightmare. You were screaming so loudly I think all Nine Realms heard you! I've been trying to wake you up for a couple minutes now."

I looked him over. There was no dagger or overcoat. He was wearing the same black sweats I'd given him yesterday. His hair was still a mess, and a small mustard stain stood out like a neon light from his shirt. He'd probably made himself a sandwich, or something.

Without even thinking, I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him close to me as I let the last of my fear escape me in a series of thanks and ugly crying. He had never tried to hurt me. It'd all been a nightmare, or one of those rumored apparitions that people often spoke about in their sleep paralysis stories. None of it had been real.

Whether he was trying to comfort me, or he just didn't know what else to do, Loki carefully sat me up and let me finish crying into his shoulder.

"Do I even want to know?" he inquired.

I shook my head hastily. He didn't want to know. If he knew, he'd assume that I really was afraid of him, and he'd leave without a moment's hesitation. I didn't want that. I could write him off as an acquaintance, or even a friend, but I didn't want him to go. Not now, not ever!

"J-just a... bad... dream," I sobbed, "A really... bad... dream."

I could feel Loki nod, "Okay. It's okay. It's over now."

We were that way for several long minutes before I had calmed down enough to make attempts to control my breathing. Through the nasty sniffling, I breathed in slowly through my nose and out again through my mouth. I repreated the process for several more minutes before my trembling calmed down and the tears ceased.

"Thank you," I sighed, hugging him tightly.

I felt him nod, "You should lie down and rest a little while longer. T'is only five o'clock. You still have time before you must get ready for work."

Reluctantly, I nodded, not wanting to slip back into unconsciousness and risk having that awful nightmare return, but so worn out from the fear that'd been coursing through me and bawling my eyes out that I felt like I could pass out again. I leaned back and looked him over, briefly apologizing for soaking his right shoulder with my tears and discreetly wiping of the blob of snot that had formed before relaxing against the pillows. Loki hesitated for a moment before standing up and turning back towards the stairs.

As he disappeared out of sight back down to the bottom floor, I reached up to where the dagger had been plunged between my eyes in my dream.

It still hurt.

 


	8. Chapter 7: Loki

We stood side by side, toe to toe with the front door to Morgan's house; a quaint little place similar to most Midgardian dwellings. In fact, I hadn't even noticed it on the drive here. It's green siding made it blend in with the surrounding trees, so I was thankful Elijah knew the route well, or we would have likely driven off the edge of the universe before we found it again.

It was Friday afternoon; weekend, as Eli called it, as he didn't have to go back to work again until Sunday night. It was warm and sunny, with a slight breeze still managing to cool the air some; a lovely day to be reintroduced to Ben and Morgan.

Admittedly, I was just as curious as Eli was to see how this would pan out. The last time his friends had seen me, they believed me to be completely mad. Then again, so had Elijah, and now we got along fairly well, though he found my tricks to be less amusing when he'd just come home from work or had just gotten out of bed. I'd found that out the hard way when he returned Tuesday morning to find Sif in the form of a throw pillow after I'd grown tired of her tearing through the apartment in the wee hours of the morning. Gods, Eli had looked like he wanted to throw me off the balcony, but instead politely asked me to turn her back to her natural, four-legged state. Needless to say Sif is terrified of me now.

"So you said you had an idea for a way to convince Ben and Morgan that you're a god?" Eli piped up.

"Indeed," I replied, "I have a couple of tricks up my sleeve."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Eli smirk.

"This isn't going to be like the heart attack that you gave me yesterday morning, is it?"

I struggled to keep myself from laughing. I thought it a good idea to place an invisibility spell over myself and hide around the corner and wait for him to make his way up to the loft to shower. He was perplexed by my absence, but only figured that I had chosen to go out for a walk. I had lifted my spell at the last possible moment, just before Elijah could collide with me, and he jumped back a good ten feet, nearly tumbling down the stairs in the process. For a while, I was genuinely worried I'd actually given him a heart attack before he nervously laughed it off and asked me not to do it again.

"I make no promises," I stated, "Only that your friends will see the God of Mischief before the day's end."

Eli could only nod, "Okay, but if one of your pranks leads you to get punched in the face, don't come running to me."

I rolled my eyes, "I think I'll be all right."

With that, Elijah threw the door open and stepped inside. It baffled me that he hadn't even bothered to knock and wait to be granted permission in, and instead charged inside as if he owned this house. Perhaps I my understanding of Midgardian etiquette had been wrong all this time. Maybe entering a mortal's household unannounced was a way of establishing one's superiority to another, or, perhaps, Eli was always a welcome guest in this household and he needn't announce his presence with knocking. Yeah, that seemed like a more logical conclusion.

"Erai!" I could hear Ben's voice call from somewhere inside as I walked through the door.

"Ben!" Eli called back, and I couldn't help but shake my head as his voice broke from its somewhat gender neutral tones and raised in pitch momentarily. It wasn't all that hard to forget that he was biologically a female, but I would honour our agreement that we had made at the convention. Hel, I don't think I could know him as anything other than 'Eli' or 'Elijah' now.

The inside of the house differed from that of the apartment. There was so much more room. While the kitchen and living room were close to the same size, the dining area was larger, making the whole place feel just a bit roomier. I took a moment to admire the various items that decorated the wall from where I stood in the doorway. Family photos hung in frames, dream catchers and wind chimes dangled in front of walkways, and an assortment of statuettes were displayed on shelves. It all reminded me of the banquette hall at the palace; lined with the mounts of all the beasts the members of the royal family had slain over the years, each one striking up stories about how each beast was brought down. Of course, it was likely that with my banishment, all of my trophies had been removed, or they'd likely make for some awkward dinner conversations. 'Yeah, and that? Oh, that's a bear that Loki killed. Nobody really knows how he did it. He probably magically stopped its heart, or something...'

Yeah... that's how it would go...

Suddenly, a shadow loomed over me. Ben had stepped out of the kitchen, and now stood before me. He had a rather displeased look on his face as his eyes stared daggers into mine.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he growled, "I thought we ditched your ass back in Lansing!"

"Don't you just hate it when things don't turn out as you'd planned?" I countered sarcastically.

Ben turned to Eli, who was working on lighting up one of his Cheyennes, "You invited him here, didn't you?"

Eli snickered, "You know me too well, bruh, but he's cool. We've actually been living together this past week, now."

"At the apartment?"

"Yup."

"Why wasn't I told about this?"

"I figured you guys needed a chance to be reintroduced first. Loki, Ben. Ben, Loki."

Ben turned back towards me, eyeing me suspiciously.

"Well, you're not all dressed up in your cosplay anymore," he stated, taking note of the plain black sweatpants and simple green tunic I wore, "You actually going to tell me who you are this time?"

I let a smile spread across my face as I stuck out my hand, "I am Loki of Asgard. Son of Odin, God of Mischief, what have you..."

"Yeah, no," Ben growled, throwing up his hands and backing away slowly, "I can't deal with your craziness. Nope."

"Ben," Eli piped up, "He really is the God of Mischief."

"Oh, don't tell me he's got you in on it, too!"

"Only because he was able to prove it to me."

Ben looked me up and down before crossing his arms, "Okay, then. Prove it."

I stared at him challengingly before my eyes shifted over to where Eli stood, still smoking, his mind clearly off in another world as he stared blankly into space.

"You see that cigar Elijah has?" I whispered to Ben.

"Yeah? What about it?"

With a wave of my hand, I watched as the cigar Eli was inhaling from morphed into a twig. Confusion settled on his face as he looked at it then to me.

"Really, dude?" he sighed, "That was my last Xotic Berry!"

"My deepest apologies," I said half-heartedly.

I waved my hand again, this time transforming the stick into an earthworm. Eli's face twisted in disgust as the creature writhed between his fingers, leaving traces of slime in its wake.

"Dude... come on!"

"Alright, alright, alright," I said, "You can have your cigar back..."

I waved my hand once more, and the worm straightened out and morphed back into the Cheyenne he'd been smoking; restored to its original, unlit state, but the suspicion remained in Elijah's features as he rolled it in his palm.

"I'm afraid it's going to be worm-flavored, now," he said eyeing it carefully.

"It won't be," I chuckled, "You have my word."

Eli stared at me for a long moment before taking the cigar in his fingers and lighting it once more. He took a long drag from it, and nodded in satisfaction. Before, he could take another drag, however, I waved my hand one last time. The orange glow dancing on the end of the cigar consumed it within seconds, and the silvery ashes fell to the floor. Admitting defeat, Eli flicked the remaining filter into a nearby ashtray.

Ben was long gone with laughter by this point, clearly satisfied with my little trick.

"How did you do that?" he asked me once he had recomposed himself.

"Magic," I stated simply.

"That was great, but I think I'm more convinced that you're Houdini more than a God of Mischief."

"Alright..."

Bowing my head slightly I stepped off to the side, leaving behind two duplicates of myself. This ability was always disorienting, as my sight basically tripled, giving me three different view points of the same room, and it took quite a bit of concentration to control each duplicate.

Ben stared in amazement as I made the copy of me that stood to the far right speak.

"Which me is the real me?"

Even Elijah seemed to be bewildered by the sight as his eyes shifted from illusion to illusion. It was clear that he was silently in on this game, as well.

The copy of me on the far right dissipated in a shimmer of green as Ben reached out to touch it.

"Wrong guess," I stated, forming yet another copy to my left, and two more that appeared behind him.

Ben lifted his hands up in defeat, chuckling "I give in, dude. I don't know!"

With a nod, my duplicates vanished, as well as myself as I casted an invisibility spell. I revelled in the shocked expression that came over his face. I struggled to hold in my laughter as he reached out and tried to feel the area where my copies and I had been standing. He turned to Elijah, clearly demanding answers, to which Eli only responded with a shrug.

As quietly as I could manage I walked over to what looked like a large cage in a nearby corner and peered inside. A large white bird with a curved grey beak sat on a bar, completely unaware of my presence.

"What a peculiar creature," I commented.

Both Eli and Ben jumped at the sound of my voice, and I lifted the spell. The bird let out a screech and flapped its wings frantically as a feathery hood lifted from atop its head. It made a few harsh hissing sounds as it opened its beak wide and backed away from me.

"Looks like you freaked Flo out a little bit, too," Eli remarked.

"What kind of bird is this?" I asked.

"She's an umbrella cockatoo, and she's a bit of a cunt."

I turned back towards Ben, who still seemed to be recovering from the initial shock of my sudden voice, "Now do you believe me?"

"Yeah, dude," Ben said, sticking out his hand, "That was fucking awesome!"

I reached out to shake his hand only to be pulled against his chest and roughly patted on the back. The gesture had me thrown, and my head was reeling from the amount of magic and power it had taken to do all I had done within the past ten minutes. At this rate, I would be out of magic long before my basnishment ended. Not that I couldn't live without it, but I loathed the mortal level of weakness that I was reduced to without it.

As I took a moment to let my head settle, a door from behind me opened.

"Did I hear a Erai?" a familiar voice asked.

I turned as Morgan emerged from a room down the hall, her blue hair blazing as she stepped into the light. She froze as she made eye contact with me, and the eager smile that'd been on her face instantly fell as her eyes widened.

"Morgan, you remember Loki, right?" Eli said, walking up to her.

"Yeah, I remember him," Morgan replied, "The question is what is he doing in my house?"

"It's okay, babe," Ben said, pulling her close to him, "He's cool."

Morgan shot me a skeptical smile as she let out a hum, "You aren't all crazy, and whatnot, still, are you?"

"It varies day to day," I responded, hoping I wouldn't have to go through the laborious task of repeating the stunts I'd just pulled for Ben.

"Apparently, Erai here invited Loki to be his roommate and didn't tell us," Ben said in a snarky tone as he whipped his head around towards Eli.

It was then that Eli explained everything; my stunt outside the hotel room, my worries over Thanos, and even my little murder attempt was mentioned briefly. I don't think anything he said up until that point made me look any better to his friends, but he did insist that I was mostly harmless, a bit of a trickster, great company, and that they would come to like me as he did. In a way his words were comforting. Nobody'd ever bothered to explain my presence, not even Thor to his friend, leaving me as somewhat of a mystery until they'd gotten to know me a bit better, and that was if they were lucky.

"M'kay..." Morgan eventually said cautiously, "But if he hurts one hair on my Erai's head, he's a dead man."

I held in my laughter. No way that would ever happen, and there was no way I was going to lose myself and try to harm Elijah again. Tricks were fine. Trying to murder him in his sleep was not.

As Ben, Morgan, and Eli moved into the living room, my eyes landed on a large black and white dog, I believe the Midgardians called it a pitbull, that had come trotting around the corner of an attached room.

"Oh, yeah, that's going to be confusing," Eli piped up, "We've got two Lokis now."

I looked down at the energetic canine as he jumped up onto his hind legs and tried to lick at my face.

"Your dog's name is Loki, as well?" I asked, trying to push him off.

"Yeah... looks like you've got some competition. God of Mischief, meet the Dog of Mischief."

I glanced back at the playful pup that seemed to be trying desperately to knock me over. I gently pushed him down, and Eli called for him, to which the Dog of Mischief whipped around and galloped over to him. He jumped up onto his lap, forcing a grunt out of him.

"So, do you have any plans for tomorrow?" Ben asked Elijah.

"Yeah," Eli replied, "My parents are taking me out. They plan on getting me seriously wasted this year."

"Aww..." Morgan whined, "And I wanted to be the one that got you drunk for your 21st birthday!"

"Morgie, I drink with you, what feels like, every month. Believe me, you'll get your chance."

"But it's not the same!"

"I'm sorry," I cut in, "But what am I missing here?"

"Tomorrow, it's the Erai's birthday," Ben explained, his grammatical errors characteristically intentional, "He'll finally be old enough to buy his own booze."

Midgard never ceased to perplex me. On Asgard, anyone of any age could help themselves to a bit of mead or wine. Obviously, young children weren't allowed to drink it, but aside from that there weren't any strict laws that said at what age you could or couldn't drink. Even I had helped myself to a glass or two of wine in my early youth, normally after a bad day of sparring with Thor or Lady Sif. It helped me unwind, and, surprisingly, kept my mischievous tendencies at bay.

Now, if I'd drunk an entire bottle of wine, that was another story...

Still the differences in the ways Midgardians and Asgardians aged made it difficult to wrap my head around Ben's words. At twenty-one, most Asgardians were still learning how to crawl, while most Midgardians were already a quarter of the way through their lives. All of it was a grim reminder that every life here was but a heartbeat; quick and easily snuffed out by the slightest attack. In a way, it saddened me, because all I could think is how none of these mortals had very long to live. Well, not very long in comparison to my own life span.

"You guys are more than welcome to come with," Eli piped up, "We can easily buy our own booze and party at my parent's."

"Do you think they'll mind?" Ben asked.

Eli scoffed at the question, "They're going to have to deal with a drunken Erai either way. No harm in bringing a few friends and having a little fun. What about you, Loki?"

I raised my head at the mention of my name, "I beg your pardon?"

"Did you want to come along tomorrow? If not, you can always have the apartment to yourself. Just don't turn Sif into a throw pillow again while I'm gone."

Again, I found myself bewildered by his words. Eli was actually inviting me to go along with him; I actually had a choice in the matter. I thought about all the times I had just been volunteered for the most inconvenient of excursions and events over the years. I'd practically been guilted into charging into Jotunheim with Thor, despite how mad I thought his plan was. I was pretty much pushed onto the thone when Odin fell into the Odinsleep, never bothered being asked if I wanted to take the throne until Odin awakened; not to mention that was right after I'd discovered my true parentage and was struggling with myself at the time. I had been turned into a tool for Thanos's own devices; battered, broken, brainwashed, and overflowing with seething hatred and greed.

Now...

Now there was no force. I could say yes and go drink with all of them, or I could say no and spend the day as I pleased back at the apartment. When I met their gazes, there was no pleading, or kneeling, or threatening. There was no pressure. It was just yes, or no; whichever I pleased.

"Will there be wine?" I inquired.

"Do you like wine?" Eli asked.

"Oh, I very much like wine."

"Then we can get wine."

I thought it over a moment before shrugging, "Why not? Sounds like it'll be a grand time."

"Alrighty, then. I'll let my parents know there'll be three more coming with me tomorrow, then."

"Wait!" Morgan squeaked, changing the conversation, "Loki turned Sif into a pillow?! Why?!"

"Earth to Morgan," Eli said, rolling his eyes, "You're lagging by a few conversations. How many hits of your bong did you have today?"

Hits? Bong? What was Elijah even talking about? Was it a form of sparring that caused damage to one's head?

A nervous smile froze on Morgan's face as her eyes seemed to search her memory for the answer.

"Five," Morgan tried to say matter-of-factly, "I think..."

Eli laughed, shaking his head, "Five? It was probably three, and your brain is so high it likes to think it was five!"

And thus began the series of stories about my various tricks that I had pulled within the past week. There was the incident with Sif, and scaring Elijah out of his wits with an invisibility spell.

Earlier in the week, I had also discovered that Elijah was also the proud owner three royal pythons and a large constrictor. Imagine his surprise, one morning, to find the constrictor free from it's glass enclosure and coiled around the sink in the loft bathroom, drinking from the tap. Within the following hour, he had found one of his pythons in a box of cereal, one in the cushions of the blue couch, and one under the refrigerator; though that one hadn't been me, and the two of us struggled for a good ten minutes trying to get that snake out from under there. That snake was supposed to have been slithering about in the downstairs bathroom. How he snuck under the refrigerator without me noticing was a mystery to me.

"He can be a raging jerkolohic sometimes," Eli stated, "But he's the God of Mischief. What am I supposed to expect?"

"That's still pretty douche-y, man," Ben commented before breaking out into a fit of chuckles, "But it's kinda funny too."

I shrugged, "It's what I do..."

Ben eyed me for a moment before sliding over on the dark green couch in the living room and opening up a space.

"You don't have to keep standing there, dude," he said. He patted the open space roughly, "Come on. Sit."

And again... I was bewildered. It wasn't Elijah that was inviting me to sit, as he was busying himself with a new pack of Cheyennes. No. It was his friend. His friend...

All these years...

All these years, it was never Lady Sif and the Warriors Three who invited me to anything; fools that merely claimed to be my friends. It was always Thor who made sure I came along, and even then it was still always about him.

"I remember a shadow. Living in the shade of your greatness..."

For once, there were no shadows. There was nobody up on a pedestal. Nobody showing someone more attention, or giving and receiving more praises, and taking more jests than anyone else.

Everyone here was equal.

Was this what acceptance felt like?

* * *

"Eli..."

Nothing.

"Oh, Eli..."

Still nothing.

It had to be the twentieth time I'd called out to Elijah over the course of the past five minutes. It was midday, and we were due at his parent's house any time. Had this been a work day for him, Eli would have been up hours ago. Ordinarily, he wasn't such a heavy sleeper. Then again, Ben and Morgan had kept him up most of the day yesterday, and I was able to sense that he was bitterly exhausted by the time we left. It came as no surprise to me when he immediately went up to the loft and curled up in bed, forcing us to share it for a time before he rolled out of bed sometime in the middle of the night.

Now I stood over him, looking down at his sleeping form; eyes closed, mouth agape, blissfully unaware of my presence as steady, shallow breaths stirred in his chest, possibly the only indication that he was even alive. It baffled me when I thought back to a few days ago when Elijah had had that nightmare. The differences were boggling. To see him there, tossing and writhing and sweating and whimpering... it had been as if he were being tortured. It didn't help ease my nerves that I'd been watching the movie called 'Nightmare on Elm Street' mere minutes before I'd heard the commotion. I suppose I let my fear from that movie and my concern fuel my desperation to wake him up that day. Now he just slept, possibly caught up in more pleasant dreams.

Even so, I'd been told to wake him if he wasn't already up by 3pm... which he definitely was not.

"Come now, Elijah," I called out again, "You need to get ready."

I got a slight reaction from him. He rolled over, possibly plunging himself deeper into his sleep. Hopeless...

I thought of all the ways I used to wake up Thor in the past; whether it was to attend an important meeting, or just to tease him a bit. There was a time where I conjured up an illusion of beetles crawling about under his covers, a trick that still makes me chuckle to this day, but seeing how Elijah owned a tarantula and a scorpion amongst his collection of pets, I could only take a guess and think that tactic ineffective. I remembered how one time, when Thor had been drinking, I had him wake to the illusion of his bed floating in the middle of a lake. That may work, but I wasn't sure I had the magic to conjure up such a convincing projection.

As I stood there thinking of other ways to wake Elijah, Sif ran up from downstairs and jumped up onto the bed. She padded over to him and began kneading at his shoulder with her tiny grey paws, a sensation that I had woken up to numerous times since I started staying here. Still, Eli remained fast asleep.

And that's when it hit me.

I looked over to a nearby nightstand where a full spray bottle of water sat. Elijah normally used this to correct Sif's behavior, and I'll admit that even I had fallen victim to the mortal contraption a few times when Eli had stumbled upon one of my tricks. At least this wouldn't require any magic.

Swifty, I grabbed the bottle and aimed at Eli's face. I'd only squeezed it a couple of times before he squirmed beneath the covers. He let out a frustrated groan as he wiped his face with his hands.

"What the hell, man?" he growled as he looked up at me, beads of water dripping from his bangs, "I was sleeping!"

"I could see that," I countered sarcastically, "The only problem with that is it's already past three o'clock. I've been trying to wake you up for about five minutes."

Eli continued to wipe water away from his eyes as he shook his head, "Damn... I had no idea I was asleep for that long."

Throwing the covers off of himself, Elijah rolled out of bed and shuffled his way into the attached washroom as I made my way back downstairs. It wasn't a couple of minutes before I heard the shower turn on, a confusing contraption that took me a few attempts to master, scalding and freezing myself a few times in the process.

I was about to pick up the book I'd been reading, when a particular sound caught my attention, a sort of whining coming from the washroom. At first, I thought maybe Elijah had been a bit too groggy when he started the water, and had stepped into a broiling downpour. As I listened, however, I realized this whining was less a whine and more of a rhythmical noise. I followed it up the stairs and to the washroom door. Listening closely, I was able to make out words over the sound of running water.

_I'm sorry for everything, no everything I've done._

_From the second that I was born, it seems I had a loaded gun,_

_And then I shot, shot, shot a hole through everything I loved._

_Oh, I shot, shot, shot a hole through every single thing that I loved._

Singing. Something I'd never heard Elijah do in the car while the radio blared, no matter how catchy the song was. Eli was taking the opportunity in his time of privacy, blissfully believing that nobody was listening, to sing his heart out in the shower. I could only think of the embarrassment that would overcome him if he found out I was just on the other side of the door listening, hand clamped over my mouth to try to avoid laughing, for fear of being heard.

I listened until he finished the song, fumbling over the less well-versed lyrics, most likely skipping over some until he was done. He wasn't bad, but I definitely wouldn't consider him a God of Song or anything of the like. Listening him just amused me, to an extent.

Just as Elijah was about to start up another song, a loud blaring sound rang out from down in the kitchen, nearly scaring me out of my skin. It paused for a few seconds before it rang out again, and a third time a few more seconds after that. I'd heard a lot of unpleasant sounds over the centuries, but this had to be the worst by far. Loud, persistent, gravelly almost, and it was part of the apartment? How irritating!

After the noise blared a sixth time, Elijah called out from inside the washroom.

"Loki! Can you please get the door?"

That horrid noise was the door? In what universe was it perfectly acceptable for a door to make such a racket?! It almost sounded like the sirens that would go off whenever there was trouble in the Asgardian dungeons, only worse!

I quickly went to the door and peeked through the little hole in it that looked out into the hallway. Nobody was there, so who could be making that racket, and how?! The blaring was unbearably loud now, making cringe as it rang out. It was then that I glanced to the wall to my right and saw a panel with three bottons labeled "Door", "Listen", and "Talk". Curiously, I pressed the one that read, "Listen".

_"What's taking him so long?!" I could hear Morgan's voice whine through the speaker._

_"Knowing Erai, he's probably passed out in bed." Ben's voice replied._

_"Okay, but Loki should be up by now, right? Why not just use your keys and let ourselves in like normal?"_

_"I'm trying to pick on Eli, babe."_

_"Well, I don't think it's working..."_

I pressed the button that read "Talk".

"No," I stated, "but your noise is certainly driving me insane."

As I pressed the Listen button again, I could hear Ben and Morgan laugh.

_"Oh my God, dude!" Ben said, "You were listening the entire time?"_

"For a few brief moments, actually," I growled.

_"Well, can you let us in?"_

"You've got the key... do it yourself."

With that, I released my hold on the button and walked off into the living room. I heard the complex door open and two sets of feet thunder up the stairs leading to our door. Seconds later, the lock clicked and the apartment door swung open.

"I get that you were trying to make a point," Ben said as he stepped into the kitchen, "but that was kinda shitty."

"Forgive me for not being fond of sirens blaring in my ear," I retorted.

"Where's my Erai at?" Morgan inqired, "Don't tell me he's still in bed."

"He was. He just woke up and is now taking a shower."

The three of us sat down in the living room making conversation until we finally heard Eli come out of the bathroom.

"Nobody come up here!" he called out, "I'm indecent!"

I couldn't help but laugh, "We already know this, Elijah."

Eli's head popped out from over the railing that overlooked the downstairs, revealing him to be sopping wet.

"Oh, ha, ha, ha. Very funny, coming from the one who used the last of the conditioner and _didn't tell me_!"

"Well, you live down the road from the marketplace, right? You can always pick up some more."

"And you can come with me and see how much of a pain grocery shopping can be."

Ben laughed at out half-hearted giggle, "You guys already sound like an old married couple."

Eli and I exchanged an awkward glance before he looked over to Ben and pointed a finger at him.

" _No_." he said firmly before disappearing back into the loft.

I was utterly thrown by Ben's words. I honestly hadn't given two thoughts to the idea of that sort of companionship. In the past, I'd normally been too caught up in my studies or practicing magic to even think about courting one of Asgard's fine maidens. The only people I'd ever really needed were Frigga and Thor, and nobody trusted the God of Mischief enough to court him, even if he was considered to be a prince of Asgard.

My mind went back to the discussion Elijah and I had just before we'd set off to the hotel room from Shuto Con.

_"You speak as though you don't have a lover, yourself."_

_"Maybe that's because I don't."_

No lover. Nobody to call his own. Nobody that completed him.

_"Nor I. Frankly, I believe it's better that way."_

And my words had rung true. If Odin was right, war, ruin, and death would not only follow me, but those I loved, as well. The last thing I wanted was to get Elijah wrapped up in aftermath upon aftermath of my tricks and lies, and that was the last thing he needed.

_"Same. For a while, at least."_

A while. How long was a while to him? A month? A year? A decade? He'd just turned twenty one, now. He didn't have the five thousand year lifespan of an Asgardian. We were encouraged to take our time in choosing our partners. Our lives were long, and separation was highly frowned upon. It wasn't like Eli could dawdle with his decision...

Was Ben encouraging him to choose me?

Unwise.

* * *

The engine of Elijah's car roared as it struggled to make it's way up the driveway leading to his parent's house. Mud spattered the windows and parts of the windshield as his tires spun, and all the effort Eli was giving only managed to get us up the hill inches at a time. Every so often, he would throw the car in reverse, back up all the way to the bottom of the driveway, and floor it all the way back up to where we'd been, buying himself a few more muddy feet, but still winding up stuck once more. The fact that we were mere feet away from the top of the hill tormented us all the more.

"Elijah," I piped up, "I don't think we're going to make it."

"You underestimate my mad driving skills," he countered, "We'll get up there. I promise."

He threw the car into reverse once more, this time backing out into the road. The car let out another enraged roar as he stepped on the gas and charged up the hill. It shook as it flew over the steepest slope of the driveway and rolled to a stop beside a smaller black car that appeared to be in no better condition than Eli's.

Ben, Morgan, and I clung to, what Eli referred to as, the "'Oh, Shit!' Handle" for our lives. Mad, indeed!

We took a moment to collect ourselves as the car died with a quick turn of the key.

"Well, that was fun..." Eli commented as he turned to the rest of us.

"Oh, is that what it was?" Ben questioned sarcastically.

"What? You don't like a little mud boggin'?"

"Not in your crappy little Taurus, I don't!"

"Hey, if we woulda taken your shitty ass truck, we'd probably still be stuck!"

Ben opened his mouth to say something, but clamped it shut again, "Fair enough..."

The four of us stepped out of the vehicle, feet sinking slightly into the soft, muddy ground slightly as we did. We stood before a fair-sized yellow house that had two levels to it. At first, I believed us to be on a farm as my eyes laid upon sets of wooden fencing just beyond a couple of garden beds, but with the lack of animals in sight perhaps all that was just in the property's past. It was still a lovely place, however, surrounded by oak and wallnut trees with a few tall pines placed here and there. I could only imagine what this place looked like in the summer, with it's trees full of crisp, green leaves and flowers in full bloom.

"Just a warning," Eli piped up as we approached the front door of the house, "My parents don't call me 'Eli'."

"Oh?" I asked, "Then what do they call you?"

Elijah rolled his eyes, as if the answer was one he'd given a million times before.

"Tina..." was his response, "but they won't care if you call me Eli. Heck, between the three of you, it might actually get the fact I'm trans through their thick heads."

There was no venom or bitterness in his words; only annoyance, but I couldn't imagine what feelings could be plaguing him deep down. It must be difficult for him to have his parents never acknowledge him for who he truly felt he was deep down. Then again, I would know.

I would know...

"There they are!" a voice of a cheerful woman chimed as Elijah opened the door.

I made my way in behind Ben, entering into a large, open kitchen that put that of Eli's and Morgan's to shame. Smooth tile spanned the floor, and an island sat in the middle. Orange countertops lined the far wall, parted by a large metal sink. Cabinets worn and faded with age made the room feel older than it likely was, and the smell of something sweet baking came from the oven beside a nearby window.

In comparison to the kitchen, the dining room appeared to be freshly renovated with crisp white paint covering the walls, a large, clean dining table that looked like it could seat half an army, and a rug that spanned more than half of the room sitting beneath it that looked to be brand new.

Beyond the dining table, a tall, broad woman with short blonde hair stepped out of a back room, and I immediately knew she was Elijah's mother. She looked just like him, with the same crystal blue eyes and the same shape of face. Older, of course, but the resemblances were still uncanny, in a way.

"You're late," she stated, coming around the table to greet us, "I figured you guys would've been here an hour ago."

"My fault," Elijah spoke, raising his hand, "I overslept."

"Ah, the trials..." Eli's mother came up to him and wrapped him in a hug, "Happy birthday, kiddo."

As she pulled back, his mother's gaze veered to me, "And who is this?"

"This is Loki," Eli replied, "He's kinda new around here. Loki, this is my mom, Christine."

Christine shot me a smile and stuck out her hand, "You can just call me Chris. So you're the new roommate I've been hearing about."

I looked over to Elijah as we shook hands, "You told your mother about me?"

"Kinda had to when I said you were coming," Eli responded, "I'll be the first to tell you I'm a terrible liar, and this woman can pick up on lies in a flash."

I raised a brow quizzically. Was this a challenge? Of course, rules still applied; keep the mischief to a minimum, but such a statement made it all the more tempting to see what kind of charade I could keep up. However, I knew doing such a thing could cause some unnecessary trouble, especially for myself. Best to stick to the plan, for now.

"A pleasure to meet you," I said, turning back to Chris.

A loud buzzer went off over by the oven, nowhere near as loud and obnoxious as the door to the apartment, but still loud and sudden enough to catch me off guard. Chris immediately moved over to the oven and silenced it with the turn of a small knob.

"I made a _rotweinkuchen_ , like you asked," she said, opening the door and flooding the kitchen in the sweet smell that had been toiling inside the appliance.

My ears perked up at the bit of German that rolled off of Chris's tongue. I'd thought I detected a slight accent in her voice. In fact, Elijah carried the same accent in his tongue whenever he heavily emphisized his words. At first, I thought I was merely hearing things, then I thought he was doing it intentionally to prove a point. Now I see it was likely from living in a bilingual household; one that spoke both English and German.

Ben, Morgan, Elijah, and I sat around the dining table, talking casually about this and that whilst Chris made dinner preparations. The sweet smell of the _rotweinkuchen_ was replaced with the savory scent of meat sizzling away on a skillet. As mouthwatering as it all smelled, I was holding onto the brief hope that this dinner would be nothing like those held in the banquet hall on Asgard, with the table piled high with so much meat, my bird-sized stomach could hardly take it. I'd never known Midgardians to engage in such dining habits, but I'll admit that I was stunned as as watched Ben consume four whole plates of food while Eli and I were at Morgan's yesterday.

"So what do we want to do first?" Chris asked us, "Dinner, or cake and ice cream?"

Eli planted his hands firmly against the table, almost as if he were grounding himself, his lips pursing together but stretching slightly into a sarcastic smirk.

"You can't do that!" he said in a raised tone, "You can't make me choose between steak and cake! It's not right!"

Morgan laughed so hard at the comment, she snorted, causing Elijah and Ben to break out into fits of laughter, as well. As they say, laughter is contagious, and i found myself chuckling a bit as Morgan struggled to reign in her snorting.

"I firmly believe that dessert should come after a meal," I piped up, "Not to rain on Elijah's parade, or anything..."

"No, no, you're good," Eli said, patting my back as his laughter began to settle, "Besides, if I eat cake now, I might not have enough room for the steak."

"Oh, that would be a tragedy!" Ben commented, rolling his eyes, "But yeah, steak sounds good."

"Especially with the way the smell's sort of flooding the kitchen," Morgan added.

Indeed, it was, and it was enough to actually make me anticipate dinner. Ordinarily, it was something I only looked forward to getting out of the way, either dining alone or stuffed into a crowded, noisy banquet hall. But here, it was a lot nicer; plenty of elbow room, but still in good company with Elijah sitting to my right and Ben and Morgan sitting across. There were two more sets that sat across from each other, which I assumed were for Eli's parents.

"Hey, Tina, can you wake up your father, and tell him the food's ready?" Chris asked Eli.

Now I knew why he had warned me before we'd stepped inside. The name was so foreign when applied to Elijah that it bore no familiarity. The dots wouldn't connect. The name didn't align with the face. Had I not known, I would have asked Chris whom she'd been referring to. But the annoyance that played on Eli's features made it obvious, and for a moment I pitied him.

Eli nodded as he rose from the table and disappeared into the living room; a space that was much larger than that at the apartment. My eyes were drawn to a peculiar glass box filled with water that was illuminated by a bright light. Inside it, a number of tiny, colorful fish swam about. While I didn't quite see the purpose of this glass box, it was quite entertaining.

Midgard certainly had no shortage of amusements.


	9. Chapter 8: Eli

They say first impressions are everything. It's what makes or breaks our opinion of a person before we've really begun to know them. I had learned a long time ago that first impressions can be deceiving, but the same could not be said about my parents. If I had to make a written account of how many of my friends in the past my parents didn't like, or, at the very least, didn't trust, after just meeting them, I'd have an entire essay on my hands. So I knew from the moment Loki had accepted my offer to join me on my birthday that my parents were going to be a really big bullet to stop, or at the very least dodge.

I could read my mom like a children's book, and I could tell the first thought that passed through her mind when she saw Loki was, "You're a bit older, aren't you?"

She wasn't wrong. Appearence wise, Loki looked like a man in his late twenties, if not early thirties, in comparison to us baby-faced twenty, twenty-one year olds. My mom would probably have a coronary if we told her he was a one thousand year old Norse god that'd been banished to Earth; a fact that she was going to find out sooner, rather than later.

And then came the moment when my deadname was used. I hadn't missed the awkward glances that Ben and Morgan cast, and I most cercertainly hadn't overlooked Loki's, which would have made you think a stranger had walked into the room unannounced. It made me cringe, but I was sure, with enough persistence, something would eventually click in that thick head of hers.

"Tina" no longer existed.

Getting my dad to join us at the table was the next thing that seemed to catch my friends off guard. I'd heard it time and time again that I was the spitting image of my mom. Tall, stocky, blue-eyed, short-haired, round-faced, and we even sounded the same, at times. In comparison to that, I looked nothing like my dad. Tall, scrawny, green-eyed, black-haired, and gruff-looking, I had only inherited a few traits from him: a slighly narrower face than that of my mom's, the lumbering gate caused by poor posture, hair that curled when it got to be too long or when the weather got humid, and the insane ability to tan naturally with ease.

Unlike my mom, though, my dad was harder to read, putting up a friendly and social front in front of guests, and expressing his real thoughts long after they'd gone. At the very least, it was to watch as he started to make small talk with Loki. And that was our cue to execute our plan.

"So where are ya from, Loki?" my dad asked as we began filling our plates.

My ears focused on their conversation, trying to hear over the clattering of plates and silverware. I couldn't help but watch them out of the corner of my eye, wondering exactly where all of this would lead.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Loki replied with a clever smile.

"What? That you come from England? Scotland?"

"Scotland? Where did Scotland come from?"

"You gotta admit," I piped up through a bite of my steak, "you do sound slightly Scottish. You know, kinda British with a Scottish accent."

Loki opened his mouth to protest, but paused before giving a shrug, "Fair enough..."

"Why wouldn't we believe you?" my mom asked, "It's not like any answer you give would be too out of this world."

Loki and I exchanged a look, and I could tell he was trying just as hard not to laugh as I was. Loki was further out of this world than they realized.

"Alright," he said, taking a breath, "I am a prince from Asgard. Son of Odin Allfather, the infamous God of Mischief, and younger brother to Thor Odinson, the God of Thunder."

Even I still found his explanation a little daunting, but we both agreed that we would try laying everything out in the open first, sparing Loki from using his magic and other abilities right off the bat, and decide where to go from there. And with his brief explanation, the entire table was plunged into silence.

My dad rolled his neck in mocked surprise as he looked over to me, "You adopting nutcases from the looney bin now?"

I chuckled, "At this point, I might as well be the looney bin, but this one is no nutcase."

"No. I don't know what kind of fairytale land you guys are living in now, but I'm not buying it!"

With a shrug, I turned my attention back to my steak, "I'm sorry you feel that way, though you might wanna check your beer before you take another sip."

My dad eyed his can of Budweiser warily before turning his gaze over to Loki. The God of Mischief made a slight motion with his hand before lowering it to his lap. It wasn't a couple of seconds before the silence of the dining room was interrupted by the sound of something moving inside the aluminum can. A small, gold-colored snout poked out of the hole at the top, and another, and another. As more of it emerged, I was able to tell that the beer had been transformed into a trio of beer-colored snakes, which proceeded to slither out of the can and onto the table.

My dad looked from the snakes to Loki, wide eyed and slackjawed, "You did that?"

Loki smirked, "You tell me..."

He waved his hand once more and the snakes vanished into a whisp of air.

"I'm not sure I believe you just yet," my dad stated challengingly, "I mean, any magician could have done that, right?"

"Perhaps," Loki responded, "but you mustn't mistake me for some second-rate amateur sorcerer."

With a flash of green light, I was butted out of my seat and onto the floor as Loki duplicated himself; one image sitting in his original seat, the other occupying mine. My mom let out a surprised shout before helping me to my feet, and my dad had risen from his seat. And he did not look at all pleased as he stared down the copy closest to him.

"It's fine," I spoke up before my dad had a chance to wring Loki's neck, "They call him the God of Mischief for a reason. Besides, Papa, if you try going for that one, it won't get you anywhere."

"Yeah? How come?" he asked.

I made my way around to Loki's chair and stood behind it, "Because this isn't the real Loki."

I waved my hand over "Loki's" head and watched as it passed through the illusion with ease. The copy shimmered, but didn't dissipate like I'd seen the others do. Instead, it held up it's image, almost like a hologram.

Loki looked up at me with a smile, "I can keep them up if I really want to."

With a slight sigh the illusion vanished and Loki slid back over to his respected seat. He look more tired than usual, and I could tell that this little performance had sapped him of a good chunk of his magic. I felt pretty guilty at having him use his abilities just to prove to everyone that he was who claimed to be. If there had been a way to show everyone he was the God of Mischief without having him use any magic, or a small enough amount of magic to prove it without everyone dismissing him as an amateur magician, we would have lunged for the option instantly.

"That's enough for one night," I said, patting him on the shoulder, "No need to strain yourself."

I sat back down in my seat beside my mother, who looked thoroughly convince; wide-eyed with mouth gaping in awe as she stared at Loki, who'd resumed tearing into the pile of steamed vegetables next to his half-eaten steak. My father simply sat there, leaning on his arms as they sat folded on the edge of the table in front of his plate. His lips were pressed into a thin line shadowed with skepticism, making his salt and pepper mustache bristle outwards. Through his bifocals, I saw his eyes narrow, widen, and narrow again, his mind likely trying to process what he'd just seen.

Eventually, the kitchen was filled with the trademark sound of my father exhaling defeatedly through his nose. He rolled his neck once more before focusing back on his own meal.

"Well, alrighty then..."

With those words, I knew Ben, Morgan, Loki, and I had the same look plastered on our faces; the geeky, triumphant smiles of victory. No easy task. My dad tended to be hypocritical in the sense that he didn't approve of those who tended to argue or hold debates on a matter. Activists and politics were practically the bane of his existence, and there wasn't a day where I was growing up where he wasn't bitching about some presidential speach or "extremist group" that was being covered by the news. But at the same time, whenever something new was introduced into his life, he always felt the need to argue the matter, lunging for it like some kind of natural instinct. In most cases, when he was like this, he was hard to shut down. It'd taken dragging him along to one of my appointments with my gender therapist just to explain how I could be transgender, and it was probably the only argument with him that I'd ever officially won.

The fact we were able to shut him down again tonight was a major victory, probably a bigger one than Loki realized.

"So, Loki," my mom piped up, "Tell us more. I mean if you're a god, what are you doing here hanging out with a bunch of weirdos like them?"

I felt my back tense painfully. Honestly, I didn't think we'd get this far with my parents. I'd braced myself to argue, and argue, and argue some more over the matter until one of us threw in the towel. God only knows how they were going to take the news that Loki was a war criminal who was banished here for murder and genocide, amongst other things. We might as well be dining with an extremely dangerous escaped convict.

"I'm on vacation," Loki's words caught me off guard, "Asgard is wonderful, and all, but it can be a little much at times. Meetings and treaties, the occasional squabble between realms every few years, give or take. Sometimes one just needs to let their hair down. Besides, if they needed me, I know Thor would send for me post haste."

I resisted the urge to grin. Now I was starting to see why Loki had referred to himself as "the Liesmith" when we'd first met. If I'd just met him, even my own skills as a human lie detector wouldn't have called him out on the bullshit story he was telling. Now the real question was, could my mom, a living lie detector herself, pick out the bullshit?

"Interesting. And how did you and Tina meet?"

Apparently not.

"It's a funny story, actually," I piped up, "We met while we were at Shuto Con last weekend. He kinda got lost, and didn't know what was going on."

"Indeed," Loki said, "Truthfully, nobody I'd talked to at the time had been of much help, but Elijah here proved to be a serviceable guide to me, and he offered to let me stay with him until I decide to return to Asgard."

"Yeah," Ben piped up, "Inviting him to be his roommate without telling me!"

"You thought he was psycho!" I argued, "Personally, I know psycho when I see it. If I didn't feel safe bringing him to the apartment, I woulda kicked him to the curb."

"Having a God of Mischief in your house sounds complicated," my dad spoke up, "Hope he's not too much of a troublemaker."

"Do my ears deceive me, or are you actually going along with this?"

"Well, I don't know for sure what I just saw, but there ain't no Harry Houdini or David Copperfield that coulda pulled off what he did."

I laughed. Victory, secured.

* * *

It wasn't until after dinner that things got a little, well, crazy.

It all started with a little homemade Schnapps; a brew made by my uncle in Nuremberg, and brought over by my parents on our last excursion to visit the family on the other side of the pond. With me being the birthday boy, I got the first shot, and I'll be damned if it wasn't the strongest tasting stuff I'd ever had. Heck, Fireball tasted better! I chased it down with a bit of Sour Apple Pucker. The clash of flavors wasn't exactly pleasant, but it did work to get some of the Schnapps out of there.

Since Loki had been the main topic of our discussion during dinner, my dad volunteered him to go next. Admittedly, he handled it a lot better than I did, not even bothering to chase it with the wine my mom had poured him.

Once everyone had their first round of drinks, save for Ben, who had volunteered himself as designated driver, mom brought out the cake. Since my stomach couldn't handle the rich flavor of chocolate like it used to when I was a kid, she had selected a vanilla cake with white frosting. It was decorated in light blue frosting roses, and in a darker shade of blue 'Happy Birthday Eli' was written in the center. It made me smile. She could get it right at the best of times.

"Should we sing?" my mom asked.

"Nah, not necessary," I answered.

"Why not?" Loki piped up, "I mean it is your birthday, after all."

"Oh... shush, you..."

My words were slightly slurred, the alcohol in my system already kicking into gear. Not drunk, but I was definitely feeling the flushed tone that was settled just beneath my cheeks. The fact I was a lightweight was no secret. My mind went back to the late-night parties Ben used to hold, at one friend's or another's, the mixed drinks and the antics we used to get into, and I remember how I'd tend to the campfires as I stumbled around the pits like a weeble; staggering, tripping, swaying, but never falling. It was always a source of amusement, both for my friends and for myself, and it was a side that my parents, and I'm pretty sure Loki, to some extent, were looking forward to seeing.

Much to my utter embarrassment, my parents and friends followed Loki's example and sang happy birthday to me. I could only sit in my chair, smile, and blush just trying to hold it together until the song had finished. Though I do have to admit that seeing the genuine smiles on everybody's faces filled me with a certain amount of happiness, especially with Loki; the mischievousness and sarcasm fading with every note.

My mom strode over to the freezer and pulled out a gallon tub of cookies n' cream ice cream. At being asked who wanted a bowl, everyone seated at the table raised their hands. Seeing my dad want ice cream was nothing new as he helped himself to a bowl of neapolitan ice cream practically every night before bed, but seeing Loki raise his hand made me a little curious. Just the other day, he had stood hovering over my shoulder watching in what had to be wonder as I whipped up a pot of ramen noodles within the course of a few minutes, and he had admitted that he hadn't tried any authentic ramen, or anything of the like in the past. I had to wonder if ice cream was one of the few "Midgardian delicacies" that he had tried, and actually enjoyed.

As bowls were passed around and the cake was sliced, my attention was immediately drawn to Loki as he took the bowl my mom handed to him before he let out a noise that sounded something like between hiss, a gasp, and a sharp inhale through his nose. I saw him glance at his hands for a fraction of a second, before he quickly hid them under the table.

"Eli," he piped up, "May I speak with you for a moment?"

The question, as well as the tone of voice it was asked in caught me off guard. It was that tone of voice that made you think one or the other had done something wrong and required a serious discussion over the matter.

"Sure," I answered. We got up from our seats and moved to the far side of the living room, as to not be overheard or disturbed, "What's the problem?"

Loki hesitated for a few seconds, shifting uneasily on his feet, averting my gaze as he struggled to find the words to explain.

"There's... something that I haven't told you about myself," he started, "Something... I'm not sure you're going to take kindly to."

I couldn't help but laugh, "God of Mischief, prince of Asgard, hardened war criminal, banished outcast, and a liesmith that might have fully convinced both of my parents you're here on Earth for vacation? I don't think anything you say now is going to faze me."

Loki pursed his lips tightly, making his thin lips nearly vanish as he exhaled deeply.

"Then maybe it's better if I just show you."

Slowly, and trembling slightly, he pulled his hands out from behind his back and held them out to me. Between the light that was still outside and the lamps that were turned on, I could see well enough that what I was looking at wasn't a trick of the light. The skin from his wrists to his fingertips was a deep blue in color. The normal tone of his skin was slowly creeping back over it, but it did so slowly. Curiously, I leaned in to get a closer look. I reached a hand up and brushed my fingers along the blue patches of skin, only to find them to be extremely cold.

I looked back up to Loki. For the first time since we'd met, he looked distressed. Not in the way he had been when he had tried to decline my offer to stay with me when we were at the Blue Roof Inn, or when we had argued his first morning at the apartment, or when he had shaken me out of that terrible nightmare, but in a way that said that he was terrified of this bizarre transformation.

"Ordinarily it remains concealed by the enchantment that was placed on me as an infant, even in the coldest of conditions," Loki explained, "But it would seem that the enchantment is wearing off."

"What is it?" I asked.

Loki paused. His eyes said that he could probably fill books on what this was, but that he was trying to find a quicker, simpler way of explaining it to me.

"Do you remember me saying that I was from a place called Jotunheim?" he inquired.

"Yes. I also remember you mentioning that you didn't really like to talk about it."

"Well, that's exactly what I am; a Jotun."

"Okay... and that means what, exactly?"

Loki chuckled humorlessly, "It means that I'm a monster, for one thing..."

I furrowed my brows. Sure, having blue skin wasn't exactly normal, but did that really make him a monster? If anything, I was fascinated more than I was afraid. It made him all the more intriguing, and I couldn't help but wonder what the rest of him would look like if he was that rich shade of blue.

Sighing heavily, Loki began picking at his palms nervously.

"I'm a frost giant, Elijah. Probability one of the most terrifying creatures in all the Nine Realms."

"And touching a bowl of ice cream caused this to happen?" I asked.

"It would appear so, and if I'm being honest with myself... I'm kind of freaking out a little. I mean, i-if merely touching a cold surface is enough to lift the enchantment Odin placed on me to hide this grotesque form, Gods only know what eating the ice cream would do."

I could sense the panic rising in him. It might have just been my imagination, but it looked like Loki couldn't even stand to look at me so long as there was a trace of blue on his skin. It may have only taken up the top halves of his hands at this point, but he had a look on his face that would give off the impression that he'd been inflicted with an incurable disease. He trembled slightly as his nails worked their way deeper into his palms, and the longer he stood there the more it seemed like painful memories were exacerbating his anxiety.

"It's okay," I said calmly, placing my hands on his shoulders, "I don't mind it if you're one of these frost giants you're talking about. What matters is that you're still you; Loki Odinson, the God of Mischief."

"It's... Laufeyson, actually..." Loki sighed, "Odin isn't really my father. King Laufey of Jotunheim is, or he was..."

"Either way, it still doesn't make me think any less of you. Look! Your hands are already looking better."

Loki observed his hands which had returned to their natural, enchanted, porcelain state. He seemed to relax a bit at the sight, easing the last of it out of him in a long breath.

"Thank you," he said, "You have a kind heart, Elijah."

Flattered, I returned his compliment with a nod and turned back towards the kitchen.

"Perhaps a bit too kind," Loki spoke up from behind me, "Accepting a monster so easily."

I turned back and stood toe to toe with him. Gently, I took his hands into mine and ran my thumb along where the blue pigment once was.

"Still a little cold," I commented, "And you know what they say. Cold hands, warm heart."


	10. Chapter 9: Loki

"Ben... I'm pretty sure Elijah is dead..."

I looked on with a bemused expression as Eli lay motionless on the floor. All this had started after Morgan had dared him to down the last half of his extremely large bottle of Sour Apple Pucker, which was as sour as the name implied. Up until then, Eli had been comsuming the vibrant green liquor shot by shot between pieces of birthday cake. With each shot his eyes had become a little more glassy, his words a little more slurred, and his movements a little less coordinated whenever he'd gotten up from his chair. I don't know how he hadn't managed to fall over, or vomit from all that he'd consumed, but after accepting Morgan's challenge, and downing his drink all at once, it came as now surprise when he tossed the empty bottle aside and said, "I think I should stop."

After that, Ben and I collected Eli and Morgan and moved ourselves into the living room, where Chris brought out a bottle of wine and a glass for myself and put on some music, but in all honesty that wasn't the source of our entertainment. Elijah seemed to be in his own little world staring off into space as he sat beside me on his parent's plush sofa whilst Morgan, giggling and very, very drunk, sat with Ben on the love seat beside us. Morgan was all smiles as she played with his beard. When Eli hadn't so much as moved within the course of twenty minutes, Ben managed to get his attention with a few snaps of his fingers.

"How many fingers am I holding up?" he asked him.

Eli's eyes had narrowed as he leaned forward, trying to get his hazy vision to focus. I don't think Ben waving his hand back and forth helped him any.

"... Four?" Elijah answered after several long seconds, holding the side of his head with one hand in another attempt to get his vision to focus.

Two. Ben had been holding up two fingers.

"You're so wasted, dude!" he laughed.

"Oh, no shit!" Eli retorted sarcastically.

For a time, he sat there quietly, occasionally pulling himself together long enough to help himself to a cigar, or go to the restroom. After an hour though, he began shifting uncomfortably in his seat on the sofa. When I asked him what was wrong, he complained that arms and legs were aching, and that he wanted to lay down. I tried pointing out that there was pently of room for him on the sofa to put up his feet and lie down, even if it meant resting his head on my shoulder or lap, but he just shook his head and stated that the floor looked much comfier. And so, he grabbed a pillow, crawled out onto the floor, laid down on his belly, and passed out at around midnight.

It was nearly two o'clock in the morning now, and Elijah hadn't budged from his position on the floor in the time he'd been down there. I prodded him with my foot, trying to get a reaction out of him, and all I got was a light moan and a very loud snore.

"Yeah," Ben said, "I don't think he's gonna be waking up anytime soon."

"Do you think Chris and Lou would mind it if we stayed the night?" I asked.

"Probably not. The problem with that is that Erai's going to want to be able to get ready for work tomorrow night, and I know he's not going to want to drive back the same day, because he's not going to be able to sleep if he does. The question is how do we get him to wake up so we can load his ass into the car?"

"No need. I can just carry him there."

"Are you sure"

"Of course. I've had a little wine, but not so much that I can't function."

Ben nodded, "You think you can grab Morgan on your way out, too?"

Elijah's blue-haired friend was in much the same state as he was; unconscious from the vast amounts of alcohol coursing through her, and curled up at her boyfriend's side. Truthfully, if I wanted to, I could carry both her and Elijah over my shoulder without much difficulty, but in all honesty... I didn't want to. Maybe it had something to do with the discussion we'd had earlier in the evening, but I found myself drawn to Eli as he seemed to be drawn to me. When my Jotun features started to show themselves, I'd panicked at the thought of him screaming and fleeing in terror, demanding that I get out of his sight. Instead, he came closer, curious and intrigued, fascinated by the blue color my hands had taken on. Had I been any other frost giant, Eli would have been killed doing such a thing, but I still marveled at the words he had spoken.

_"You know what they say. Cold hands, warm heart."_

Cold hands, warm heart. Only Frigga had ever shown me such genuine kindness and acceptance.

_"Am I cursed?"_

My blood suddenly began to boil as my mind went back to when I'd first discovered my true parentage.

" _No."_

_"What am I?"_

_"You're my son."_

Lies. The blue skin and markings only a Jotun had prove to me that much.

_"What more than that?"_

The silence Odin had answered me with had been deafening.

_"The Casket wasn't the only thing you took from Jotunheim that day, was it?"_

And after that, all was explained; not just that I was a terrifying monster that had no place inside of Asgard, but also the reason why Thor had always been the favorite son; the one Odin had chosen over me, despite his overwhelming arrogance and recklessness.

_"Why? You were knee-deep in Jotun blood. Why would you take me?"_

_"You were an innocent child."_

_"No, you took me for a purpose. What was it?"_ The bout of silence that followed that ignited my desperation for the answers I sought, _"Tell me!"_

_"I thought we could unite our kingdoms one day, bring about an alliance, and bring about permanent peace, through you... But those plans no longer matter."_

Odin will never know how much my heart broke at hearing those words. Those plans no longer mattered. I no longer mattered. My only reason for being on Asgard, for being alive at all, was gone. My existence meant nothing, and it was all thanks to my idiot brother; the chosen one.

_"So I am no more than another stolen relic; locked up here until you might have use of me?"_

_"Why do you twist my words?"_

I wasn't twisting his words. I just gave light to the truth that'd been hidden from me for over a thousand years. I was no more than a stolen relic, one that served absolutely no purpose now.

_"You could have told me what I was from the beginning. Why didn't you?"_

_"You're my son. I wanted only to protect you from the truth."_

_"Why? Because I'm the monster who parents tell their children about at night?"_

"Loki?" Ben's voice pulled me out of my thoughts before my mind could plunge any deeper into them, "You all right?"

I swallowed, unsure of how I should answer him. By all intents and purposes, I was not all right. Those thoughts, that knowlege, made my anger and hatred for Odin and Thor resurface with a vengeance, but mostly I just felt sad, lonely at the realization that my life meant nothing. When I had taken the throne whilst Odin was in the Odinsleep, I realized I never wanted it. Even though I'd been told since I was a boy that I was born to be a king, I didn't want it. I only ever wanted to be equal to Thor, and not just an afterthought.

With all those thoughts and emotions swimming through my head, and with the alcohol in my system, it came as no surprise when I felt tears running down my face as I shook my head.

"What's the matter?" Ben asked, getting up from his seat and sitting beside me, stepping over Elijah's unconscious form in the process.

So much was the matter at this point. I was still a criminal, and my final sentencing would come eventually. My powers were diminishing, trying to prove who I was. Even if everything turned out all right, and I wouldn't be completely stripped of my rank and eternally imprisoned, if that, I would still exist with the knowledge that my life had no meaning or purpose to it other than being the God of Mischief; the only god everyone dreaded getting involved with.

"I guess I just don't understand," I started, my voice breaking pathetically, "I don't get why you all are so accepting towards me. Elijah, most of all. To everyone else, I'm just the Trickster God; a monster, but you guys welcome me and treat me as an equal. I just don't understand why."

Ben slung an arm around my shoulder and smiled.

"I'll admit, you are kind of a douche at times," he said, "But all around you're not a bad person. You just kind of fit in with our ragtag bunch of weirdos."

"And what about Elijah?" I inquired, "Where does he stand in all of this?"

Ben nodded as his eyes looked down at the blond, "I honestly think he has a crush on you."

His words caught me off guard. I wasn't familiar with a lot of Midgardian terms of the 21st century, but "crush" was one I was wholly familiar with. It meant to have feelings for someone; an infatuation. Whether it was truly love was still a mystery to me. Plenty before had had crushes on me, and they always ended the same: fading with time, forcing those people to move on.

"You mean he has feelings for me?" I questioned.

"Believe me," Ben chuckled, "I know how Erai gets when he likes someone, and you seem to make him all kinds of giddy."

"But he says we're just friends all the time."

"And you believe him? That guy is like the king of denial when it comes to liking people. His past relationships have kinda fucked him up in the head, but friends don't look at friends the way Eli looks at you."

I looked down at Eli as he slept, blissfully unaware of our conversation. It'd be foolish of him to fall for a god such as myself, and it would be foolish of me to fall for a mortal like him. It might just be that hair of his, but I'd be lying if I said things didn't seem a little bit brighter when he was around. He made me feel like someone actually cared about me, and gave me some feeling of belonging, instead of feeling as estranged as I did on Asgard. But actual feelings?

"I don't know," I said, "Personally, I don't think I'll ever fall in love, and if I do it most certainly won't be with a mortal like Elijah. I mean, look at him. He's as dull as a pile of unscented handsoaps."

Laughing deep in his throat, Ben shook his head as he looked at me.

"Whatever you say, man, but hey at least you look like you feel a little bit better."

He was right. The tears had dried seveal minutes ago, and I was in a better mood. Much had changed within the first week of knowing Elijah and his friends, and, with a little luck this next year would turn out to be equally as pleasant, if not more so.

Ben managed to rouse Morgan from her drunken slumber while I was forced to carry Eli over my shoulder, which he only responded to with a groan. I could only pray that this wouldn't be the one time he decided to puke. We gathered any belongings we'd brought along with us, left a note of thanks to Chris and Lou, whom had gone off to bed hours earlier, and piled into Eli's car, with Ben driving, Morgan in the seat beside him, and Elijah and I in the back.

As we pulled out of the driveway, Eli's head came to rest upon one of my shoulders. As he wasn't buckled into the seat, his position was rather awkward, and looked to be highly uncomfortable, yet he did not wake in the slightest. Time and time again, I tried nudging him off so he leaned against the window, only to have him fall back over after the car had taken a turn, or when the car had bounced just right off of a pothole.

After about the twelfth time of doing this, I gave in. When Eli's head landed on my shoulder again, I laid him down so his head rested easily on my lap. Somehow this evoked a reaction out of him. He stirred slightly, and an arm that'd been dangling off of the edge of the seat came up. His hand wrapped around my inner thigh and squeezed slightly before going limp. A sigh escaped him, and just under his breath I heard him mutter something that made me halt any reaction I was about to give towards the accidental groping.

"Loki..."

The slight commotion was enough to make Morgan turn around in her seat and look at us. Whether it was the alcohol doing it, or her own emotions at play, I didn't know, but the sight of Eli curled up as he was made her expression soften into a melted smile.

"Now that's cute as shit," she mumbled, pulling out her phone, "I gotta get a picture."

Even the flash from the phone's camera wasn't enough to wake Elijah up, and it was blinding.

"I'm thoroughly convinced he's dead," I commented as Morgan turned back around in her seat.

"Yeah, he's gonna be completely out of it until morning."

We reached the apartment at around three o'clock in the morning, and we got out of the car just as we had gotten in; with me carrying Elijah and Ben guiding Morgan out as she swayed and stumbled, still heavily under the influence.

"Should we be concerned that he hasn't woken up at all yet?" I asked gesturing to Eli as I laid him down in the bed.

"I wouldn't worry about it," Ben replied, waving his hand dismissively, "He'll be up later. He'll be hungover, for sure, but he'll be up."

As Morgan and Ben had driven over to the apartment, they left and drove themselves home, leaving Elijah and I alone, and leaving me to turn over my thoughts on the sofa until I too eventually fell asleep.

Nothing ever did come of my discussion with Ben that night, but in the morning Eli did wake up will a nasty hangover. And so did I.

* * *

Elijah lay sprawled out on the wooden steps of the back door, basking in the light of the early summer sun with a Cheyenne pinched between his fingertips. We had moved into the house he had spoken of in March a little over a month ago now, and the four of us, Ben, Morgan, Eli, and myself, as well as all of the animals, had all settled in nicely. It was a fine place, located out in the country next to a road that didn't even come close to rivaling those of Grand Rapids when it narrowed down to traffic. Going to and from was easy, and it was far more peaceful.

However, I had noticed something off about Elijah's behavior recently. He seemed more withdrawn than usual and more down than he typically was. For a while, I tried chalking it up to a bad night at work, as this had all started when he'd returned home one morning, the whites of his eyes red, as though he'd been crying. But as I time wore on, I realized it was less something that'd recently happened and more something that was going to happen; a date to some tragic event that was fast approaching.

And now it must finally be here. Eli had called in sick to work long before it was even time for him to get ready. He'd been laying in the sun for hours, lighting one smoke after another. He appeared to be less enjoying the fine weather and more focused on trying to keep his emotions bundled. Over all, he just wasn't himself. Morgan was at work and Ben was still sleeping, so I knew if I wanted answers, it'd have to be straight from the horse's mouth.

"Everything all right?" I asked him, managing to find a place to sit on the steps at his side.

Eli's only response was a shake of his head.

"What happened?"

With a sigh, Eli slowly sat up and took a drag from his cigar.

"A year ago today..." he said quietly, "One of my closest friends committed suicide."

All at once, the world seemed to grow a little darker, a little quieter. The way saying those words seemed to sap Elijah of his strength and energy, it was like I was watching him bleed out, and I had not the resources or the knowhow to stop it. And that's exactly how it was; I didn't know what to say or do to help him. On Asgard, suicide was a cowardly way for a warrior to go and forever was a stain upon their legacy. Under any other circumstances, I would have regarded the victim as a weak, lily-livered fool that wasn't worthy of existing within the Nine Realms, but those were not the words Eli needed to hear now.

"I'm very sorry," was all I could say, "If I may... How did they...?"

"She was being bullied a lot in school," Eli explained, "I guess it all got to be too much for her. She... threw herself in front of a speeding car, and died instantly."

I sat there flabbergasted. Sure, I had heard of grizzlier deaths, seen grizzlier deaths, but my situation was different from that of Eli's. I was a warrior. I'd seen countless battles and the horrors of war. I'd held plenty of Asgardians as they drew their last breaths in my arms, and I had also seen the despair suicide wrought; how people seemed to break and fold under the grief of hearing about their loved ones taking their own lives over chosing an honourable death. Being as young as Eli was, he shouldn't have had to go through that.

"I found out through an article on Facebook," he continued, "None of my friends could have bothered to find me and tell me in person. You know, every day I think, 'Why didn't she tell me? Why wasn't she able to tell any of us what she was going through? We were her friends. Why didn't she say anything?'. And then, I think back to my own past, and how I was bullied..."

Elijah trailed off, remaining silent before turning to me and holding out his left arm. In the light of the sun, the pale scars of eight distinct slashes adorned the skin. Not deep, but in the trademark pattern of intentional self-harm. The weather had been so cold for a while that Eli's arms were always covered up by that massive coat of his, and I had never bothered to get close enough to examine them myself that I never saw them.

"... and I remember that I never said anything because I felt there was nobody I could trust. That must've been how she felt; like there was no one she could trust to listen to her and try to make things better. To give her a reason to live."

Eli's voice broke as he bowed his head and buried his face in his knees. I didn't need to see the jerky rise and fall of his back or hear the uncontrollable sniffling to know he was crying. Whoever this friend was, she'd obviously meant a great deal to him, more so than she probably realized. Which was the exact reason why I found suicide intolerable. It hurt more people than the victim could ever guess, it breached borders, it changed communities, and not for the better, and it always left one question eternally unanswered: why?

I rested a hand on Elijah's shoulder.

"You mustn't blame yourself," I said, "She did not die by your hand. You have no right to feel responsible for her death."

My words did nothing to ease the sobs wracking his body. If anything, they intensified as the air was filled with the sound of his whimpering cries.

"You know..." he sobbed, "She messaged me three days before she died... and I ignored her because I felt like I was too busy... and she'd been taking pictures of herself... standing by the road with cars passing by. She did that all the way up until the night she killed herself. You'd think one of us would have taken the hint!"

"Elijah!"

I did my best not to snap as I grabbed his shoulders and turned him towards me. The whites of his eyes were painfully red, and the glittering crystal blue of his eyes looked more like a lifeless navy.

"None of that was your fault," I stated calmly, "How could you have known? How could you have possibly known what she'd planned to do that night?"

Eli dropped his gaze from mine to the boards of the stairs we sat upon, "I could've read her messages..."

"And then what? She might have told you she was hurting and was seeking help, or she could have fed you a lie to make you believe everything was fine. How betrayed would you feel then?" More tears poured from his eyes as he searched his thoughts, and I pulled him against me in a reasuring embrace, "You couldn't have known, Eli. So do not place the burden of blame upon yourself. It is not yours to carry."

Elijah relaxed against me, burying his face into my shoulder as he cried.

"I miss her so much..." he wept.

"I know. I know, but at least she's no longer suffering. She's no longer in any pain."

We remained like that for what had to be an hour before the combination of sobbing and grieving made Eli pass out from exhaustion. I took the liberty of carrying him inside, as leaving him out on the back steps not only looked uncomfortable, but would also have most likely left him sunburnt with the lack of cloud cover in the sky. I laid him down on the couch and settled myself in a nearby recliner, picking up the book I'd been reading earlier, but in all honesty my mind couldn't focus long enough for it to get lost in the pages.

My mind wandered to what Eli had said the first day I'd started living with him.

"I spent most of my life in school being bullied out of a class of one hundred and fifty some odd people."

The image of those scars along his arm haunted me, and I idly wondered what they'd looked like when they'd first been engraved in his skin. Elijah had been bullied. His friend had been bullied. One would forevermore bear the scars as a physical representation of the pain he'd endured, the other now dead and gone. Were humans really so weak that they were so easily torn down by the thoughtless words and actions of a few? Did they really think so little of their lives that they would end them over something so trivial?

_"What happened? Silver tongue turn to lead?"_

My thoughts came to a halt as Volstagg's words echoed in my ears. Lady Sif and the Warriors Three had always been a constant source of torment for me; never acknowledging my presence unless it was to jest.

_"He may speak good of Asgard, but he's always been jealous of Thor."_

Lady Sif may have believed I'd gone far enough away not to hear her, but I'd heard every word that came from that toxic tongue of hers. Yes, I spoke good of Asgard, and yes, perhaps I could be envious of Thor at times, but that wasn't at all what was on my mind at the time. The six of us could have easily died in Jotunheim that day, not to mention that was directly after a frost giant had touched me and my entire arm had tured blue. That isn't exactly what's supposed to happen when an Asgardian is touched by a Jotun.

So, no, my words were not spoken out of petty jealousy. Thor was arrogant, he was reckless, and he was dangerous.

And then came the time I temporarily took the throne in Odin's stead. I remembered it all too clearly; toiling in thoughts of how Odin may never wake from the Odinsleep, Thor would never return from his banishment to Midgard, and I would be left stranded on a throne I didn't even want. And just before I thought I could at least break down in the privacy of the vacant throne room, here comes Lady Sif and the Warriors Three, barging in with demands of ending their precious friend's banishment. Funny how they couldn't ask the one that was actually sitting upon the throne first. They had to ask for Odin and then for Frigga before they finally settled for talking with me on the matter.

Honestly, it felt good to see Sif glare at me for not getting what she wanted, and being able to do nothing about it, unless she wanted to be executed. Even so, it only proved what I'd believed this whole time. Lady Sif and the Warriors Three weren't any sort of friends of mine. They were Thor's. They wouldn't think to go to such lengths for me, and, if I was being honest with myself, I wouldn't go to such lengths for them.

They were nothing to me. Nothing but bullies, and at realizing that I started to understand the pain Elijah and his friend must have felt; pain that led to self-harm and suicide.

As I began pulling myself out of my thoughts, all the light in the room seemed to be sucked out of existence by a shadow standing near the doorway that led upstairs, making me turn my head. Elijah stood there clad all in black; black jeans, black boots, a black button-down shirt, and a black tie that just barely stood out. It contrasted strongly against his blond hair, but not nearly as much as it did his eyes, which had lightened from that unnatural navy color to an unenthused grey. He had such a crestfallen expression, with his eyes lowered to the floor, and the corners of his mouth lax. I must have been so deep in thought that I hadn't seen him get up from the couch, but I had a feeling I knew why he was dressed in such a way.

"I'm going to visit her grave," said flatly, "I'm not sure if you wanted to come along or not."

I thought about it for a moment, "You're not going to start crying again, are you?"

"Probably..."

I thought about it for a moment longer before I stood up from the recliner and shot him a sympathetic smile.

"Best not to make you go alone then."

* * *

I had heard tales of how eerie Midgardian graveyards could be, but actually walking into one could never be described in mere words. It was like there was no sound; no birds, no wind, nothing. Silence huddled beneath the canopies of the trees like a dense fog, and the sight of hundreds of tombstones sitting side by side, row after row sent chills up my spine. The only comfort that was offered were the golden rays of sunlight that were filtered in through the leaves of the trees, bathing the graveyard in a golden hue.

Eli and I wandered through an ocean of tombstones until I saw his eyes settle on one just a few meters ahead. Had I not really been paying attention, I most likely would have missed it, as it was little more than a small slab of ebony stone jutting out from the ground. Around a half-dozen freshly cut roses and carnations were set on or beside it, a sign that we were not the first to visit her today.

"Looks like everybody else has already come and gone," Elijah stated quietly.

His fingers traced the pale engravings of the tombstone as he knelt down in front of it. As I approached, I could make out the words inscribed on the shiny black surface.

In Memory of

Anna S. Miller

Beloved Daughter, Sister, and Friend.

"It's hard to believe she's been gone for a whole year," Eli commented, "Seems like only yesterday we were sitting at the lunch table at the high school, talking each other through the bullshit the day had thrown at us."

I nodded acknowledgingly, "What was she like?"

"She was smart. She knew more about algebra and science than I did, for sure. She was eccentric, kind, and understanding with a say-it-like-it-is attitude; the kind of person I could go to with anything without being judged, but still get her honest opinion on the matter. I think that's what made her brave. Being able to voice her opinions and not give a damn about what anyone else thought, but I guess even the brave reach their breaking point eventually."

"I understand," I said, earning a questioning glance from Eli, "I've thought about what you said, back when we first met. I guess I realized that bullies can be just as much of a source of pain as all the problems I was facing. You and your friends and this simplistic life on Midgard made me forget about my own bullies; Lady Sif, the Warriors Three, my brother. I guess what I'm trying to say is I'm sorry, for thinking that my problems were bigger than your own."

Eli stood up and smiled as he turned to me.

"Apology accepted," he said, "Though you gotta admit, being a god banished to Earth and saddled with a bunch of weirdos like me, Ben, and Morgan kinda overrules a three year old grudge against some high school punks."

"Still," I piped up, "I remembered how worthless their jests made me feel, and how I know they'd sooner let me sit in a cell and rot than let Thor fall to the same fate."

"You don't have to worry about that now," Eli said, placing a hand on my shoulder, "I'm sure that someday, someone's going to hold you so tight, all your broken pieces stick back together."

I felt my heart leap at his words. Elijah never ceased to amaze me with the belief and high regard he held in me. Words that I had only heard from Frigga, seldom heard from Thor and Odin, were now being spoken by a mere Midgardian whom I'd only known a few short months. Despite that, I found myself clinging to each and every word like a lifeline, hoping for more. Hoping to always have it so I wouldn't fall again, and an intriguing thought came to mind. Maybe it wasn't Eli who was crushing on me. Perhaps it was I who was crushing on Eli.

 


	11. Chapter 10: Eli

The months flew by, one after the other, and before I knew it the four of us were broiling in the sweltering heat and suffocating humidity that was a Michigan summer. It was July, and while I did prefer the heat over the cold, it was not without its discomforts.

The mosquitoes had to be the worst thing; constantly biting any exposed part of my skin whenever I had my back turned, and it was just my luck that those pests seemed to avoid everyone and gravitate towards me. I already had to explain to Loki that the dark spots that covered my arms and legs that resembled chicken pox were actually scars from mosquito bites that had been scratched raw; something that I'd had to explain to people over and over again ever since I was a kid. It was aggravating, but nowhere near as bad as hearing the high-pitched buzzing of a mosquito somewhere in my room just as I was about to go to sleep.

Aside from the heat and the bugs, life was pretty normal for us. Ben and I worked during the night when it was cool outside, Morgan worked during the day while we slept, and Loki... well, Loki suffered. _Bad!_

He may have never admitted it, but I could tell that the summer heat really got to him. Even though we left the air conditioning running, sometimes on full-blast, he could normally be found slumped over in a chair or in his own bed in his bedroom, looking like he was about to die from heat stroke. When I thought about it, I guess a frost giant in the summertime was like a snowball that was tossed through the gates of Hell. He wasn't built for this sort of weather, and it wore him out easily.

One particularly hot afternoon found the two of us collapsed on the sofa and recliner, doing our best to cope with the heat. The AC had gone out, and the forecast was calling for record-high temperatures for the week. In short: the two of us were lounging around with me in little more than my boxers and binder, and Loki in a plain white t-shirt and a pair of shorts. While I barely managed to stay cool with a fan that was running, Loki looked like he was boiling; his face red and the rest of him sweating. At this rate, he probably would die from heat stroke.

I tried thinking of things we could do to stay cool. Ben and Morgan had gone to Ben's parent's for the weekend, where there was a functioning air conditioner. I'd thought about bring Loki back over to my parent's house to do the same, until I found myself chatting with my mom one evening over the phone, and she briefly mentioned how royally pissed my dad was at him for outwitting him. Seemed like my dad was the same sore loser as ever.

I also thought about taking a trip up to Sessions Lake to go swimming. The water would be perfect this time of year; not too cold, not too hot. I was just about ready make the offer, until I remembered my car... and how it'd been sitting in the sun all day... and how it was probably an oven inside, by this point... and how it'd take several minutes for my car's AC to make it at least comfortable to sit in, if it worked at all.

We'd also tried to keep the heat at bay by downing bottle after bottle of water, soda, juice, milk; whatever cool refreshing liquid we could get our hands on, basically, but it was only ever a temporary fix. After about fifteen minutes or so, we'd be boiling in our seats again, now sweating more than ever.

There was only one thing left I could think of that would make this better.

Fighting every protest my body gave at having to move in the unbearable heat, I got up from the couch and wandered into the kitchen. I threw open the door to the freezer and pulled out a bucket of butter pecan ice cream that was sitting inside. I made two bowls and hurriedly shoved the bucket back into the feezer, as if the soaring temperatures would melt it in a minute if I left it sitting on the counter. Sticking a spoon into each bowl, I carried them back into the living room and held one of them out to Loki.

"Here."

Loki's eyes had been closed, and it wasn't until he opened them that I could see what the heat was doing to him. He looked exhausted, almost as if he'd been using every ounce of his energy and concentration to keep his mind off of the heat. His eyes looked dark, and the absence of his playful smile seemed to suck the life out of the rest of him.

His eyes went from me to the bowl, and then back to me. I could tell what he was thinking. Heck, I think I could see it; what'd happened during my birthday party a few months back.

I let out a sigh as I sat down at the end of the couch beside him.

"Are you still scared?" I asked, "Scared of turning into a frost giant?"

"It's not that I'm scared of turning into one," Loki replied, sweat pouring as he sat up, "It's what I am. I've made peace with that, but I'm scared of you seeing it; what you'll think of me in that form."

"It can't be that bad."

"Elijah, frost giants are the things of nightmares to Asgardians, and there aren't very many creatures in the Nine Realms that Asgardians fear. It truly is that bad."

I was silent for a couple of moments before I set the bowl down on a nearby table and took a small spoonful of ice cream out of my own. I held it out to him, only to have my wrist snatched in tight, defensive grip.

"I do not need to be fed like some helpless child!" he snapped, "Who in the world do you think-?"

We both paused in the same moment. His eyes went to my wrist, and my eyes went to his hand. As we both looked up, I could tell we both thought the same thing. His usual cold touch was now replaced with one that was clammy, and hot as an iron, and I was sure that my slightly warmer touch had increased to one of hot asphalt.

"You're boiling," I commented first.

"As are you," Loki responded, slowly loosening his grip.

His eyes went back to the spoonful of ice cream I had held out to him, which was losing its solid appearance, and gradually melting on the surface. He looked like he wanted it as badly as he wanted to keep his Jotun form hidden, and both desires were at war; the need to keep his true nature a secret, and the need to cool down in the sweltering heat.

"I promise I won't judge you," I spoke up, "and no matter what you look like, it's still you, isn't it? That's all that really matters."

Loki looked at me quizzically before looking back to the bit of ice cream I'd offered him. Apparently his need to cool down overrided his need to conceal his true form as he leaned forward and took the spoon into his mouth.

The change was almost immediate and happened so fast that if I would have looked away for more than a few seconds, I would have missed it. A sharp indigo color sprung forth from his porcelain skin, starting from his mouth and nose area, rapidly spreading across his cheeks, up his forehead, down his neck, and gradually creeping down his arms and legs. The color was so bold, I could even see the shadow of it from beneath his shirt. In various places, but especially on his face, I could make out the lines of ornate markings embedded in his skin; scar-like, almost as if they'd been intentionally carved into him. It took a few drawn out seconds for Loki to finally look at me, but when he did, the emerald eyes I'd become so familiar with had turned into a pair of shining garnets.

So this is what he was so desperate to keep hidden from me. This was a frost giant.

"Well?" Loki piped up, looking at me with anticipation, "Say somthing."

A thousand words. There were a thousand words that I could have used to describe the sight sitting in front of me. Beautiful, intriguing, unique, interesting, amazing; words upon words, but all I managed to muster out was a breathless, "Wow..."

Loki seemed to be perplexed by my response as his brow twisted in confusion and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"Are you not... scared?"

I shook my head.

"Do you not find me... repulsive?"

"I mean..." I started, "The red and the blue kind of... _clash_ a bit, but over all it's just... wow! I don't even have the words..."

I reached out a hand to explore the markings that adorned his forehead, only to have it batted away.

"No, don't!" Loki exclaimed quickly.

"Why? What is it?"

"You cannot touch me while I'm in this form. My touch will burn yours with the slightest graze. You mustn't touch me!"

My eyes scanned the blue color of Loki's skin, and I became curious. There wasn't any steam, any smoke, no indication in an extreme difference of the temperature of the room and the surface temperature of his skin. In that moment, I became a child whose mom just told him not to touch the pan that was sitting on the stove. I had to, because much like a child, touching it was going to be the only way I could learn. Easy way, hard way; it didn't matter to me.

Gently, my hand brushed against his cheek. It was as cold as a block of ice, but it didn't burn. My fingers only managed to explore one of his markings momentarily before the sight of his skin suddenly going pale under my touch made me draw my hand back with a slight gasp.

Loki, thinking he'd been right about me getting burned, rolled his eyes, "I tried to warn you..."

"No, it's not that," I said.

"Then what is it?"

I couldn't just explain it to him. Where I had touched him was already beginning to turn blue again as Loki had picked up his bowl of ice cream and began shoveling it into his mouth.

"Hold out your arm," I instructed.

Loki shot me a skeptical look, but complied, setting the ice cream aside and holding an arm out to me. I rested my hand against his forearm, and left it there. We sat like that for a few awkward seconds before it happened again, and Jotun-blue skin began to fade to white. Loki seemed to be as stunned and confused by this as I was, and he gently pulled his arm out of my grasp and watched the blue consume where my hand had been once more.

"That's impossible," Loki murmured, clearly trying to make sense of it, "Ordinarily, only the Casket of Ancient Winters and the touch of a frost giant can break through the enchantment. I assumed that it was my banishment and my gradual decrease in power that was causing the enchantment to weaken, yet somehow your touch appears to be... strengthening it somehow." Loki's eyes veered to me an narrowed slightly in suspicion, "You're... you're not one of the Aesir, are you?"

I shook my head, "No, I'm just Eli; plain, simple Midgardian fool."

The two of us sat there for a while, turning over the possibilities in our heads. I honestly couldn't come up with anything. I had no clue how these enchantments or his transformation was supposed to work, and I doubted Google would have an answer for this one. Maybe it was just a fluke, or it worked opposite of how the cold affected his skin, and the warm touch of a human made it go back to normal. All I knew for sure was that it was strange, and like all strange things, I liked it.

"Eli," Loki piped up, "It truly doesn't bother you to see me this way."

"Not really," I replied, "but I'd seriously advise against going out in public like that. Not everyone is as accepting as I am."

Loki looked at me like I had said the most obvious thing in the galaxy.

"Believe me. I know that all too well. Not even Thor has seen me in this form; only Odin, and my mother Frigga."

"Your mother..."

"What is it?"

"It's just that I've never heard you talk about your mother. You never shut up about Odin or Thor, but you very rarely talk about your mother. Is there a story behind that, or not really."

Loki's expression softened as he started to tell me about Frigga. The Allmother. He described her as a kind, gentle woman whom he cherished the most. The way he talked, she loved him more than anything else, probably even more than Thor, and he cherished her. Loki had learned a fair chunk of magic from her, too, and he valued his magical abilities greatly because of that. He said that if it wasn't for her, he'd probably just let it all go and refer to himself as Loki of Jotunheim, as much as it would sicken him to do so.

Despite how much he spoke of her gentleness and kindness, Loki also stressed that Frigga was not one to be triffled with. She was a brave, fearsome woman that was talented with both magic and a sword, making her a deadly opponent in battle. But it wasn't just that. Frigga was also the one person whom he couldn't bring himself to trick or lie to. He loved her that much. It was a place in his heart nothing else could reach.

"I do miss her," he finally said, "With me being banished, we're not allowed to see or have any sort of contact with each other, but I do hope we will have a chance to be together again once I return."

"I see..." I responded quietly.

"Don't get me wrong," Loki stated hurriedly, "I do like it here. You, Ben, and Morgan have made my banishment thus far enjoyable. I've never had friends like them; such a sense of belonging, and I've never had a friend like you, Elijah."

I perked up as I looked up at him, and for once his sly, mischievous smile was warm.

"Since the day we first met, you've been nothing short of kind and accepting towards me. On Asgard, people would say they were my friends, but they never truly saw me. They only saw Loki the Trickster God, Loki the Liesmith, Loki the Silver Tongue. But you have truly seen me. You saw me when I confessed to trying to kill you. You saw me when I was frustrated and upset. You saw me when I was being mischievous. You saw me, and accepted me. In that way, you very much remind me of Frigga, as she was the only one who saw me, too, and still loved me no less than she did the day I was brought into Asgard."

I shrugged, "Well, when you're a transgender, pansexual weirdo like me, you really don't have room to judge."

"What does that mean?" Loki asked suddenly.

"What does what mean?"

"That word, pansexual, what does it mean? Are you sexually attracted to pans, or something?"

Honestly, I laughed so hard, I cried. Thank god I hadn't been eating my partially melted ice cream, because it would have gone all over my lap. I'd heard the question a thousand times before, but for some reason, hearing it come out of Loki's mouth made it ten times more hilarious.

I shook my head, "No, basically it means I'd date anyone. Boy, girl, transgender, genderfluid, straight, bi, gay; doesn't matter to me. If they're interested and I'm interested, they have a chance so long as they're a nice person."

The look on Loki's face was a blend of shock, awe, and pure joy; the look someone would give at making an astounding discovery.

"I've been searching for a word to describe that for decades!" he exclaimed, "One of the last places I'd expect to find it was Midgard!"

"What?" I asked, "Do they have a term for it on Asgard?"

"Oh, plenty. Whore, concubine, harlot, wench, prostitute; there are plenty of words."

"Okay, so why are you making such a big deal about it?"

"Well, the way you described it, I'm pansexual."

My chest tightened. Two single pansexuals in one room. It was realizations like these that made me hate who I was. I've hid the blushes. I've tried to stop the stares. I've tried to stop the fantasies that came over me as I lost myself in thought as I worked. It was clear that Loki didn't just intrigue me, and now the slightest thought that there might be a chance at being something more than just friends...

It was a dangerous thought, a thought that I've had too many times to count.

"Cool," was all I could say, "That makes us both pansies."

Loki chuckled as we clasped hands and shook them in a brotherly manner, "Pansies."

* * *

Like all heat waves that Michigan gets, it passed after a week. One hundred degree weather dropped into the eighties and nineties during the day, and allowed all of us to breathe a bit better. I now only hung around the house in my underwear when the three o'clock heat woke me up in the middle of the day. Ice cream was no longer an essential staple in our every day diet, though that didn't stop Ben and Morgan from pigging out on the stuff every afternoon and evening, or whenever the craving hit.

While the cooler temperatures at night seemed to do him wonders, Loki still struggled with the heat during the day. He still sweated, his face was still flushed around his cheeks, and because Ben and Morgan were home more often now, he couldn't even bring himself to indulge in a bowl of ice cream. Loki trusted me to see him in his Jotun form, but after all the open judgement he faced when they first met, he didn't trust Ben and Morgan to be just as accepting. Unfortunately, that meant suffering in the heat more than he had to, and gradually the fluctuating temperatures began to take its toll on him.

I came home from work one morning to the sound of coughing coming from upstairs. Ordinarily, I would have chalked it all up to someone's food or drink going down the wrong pipe, but this wasn't a choking sort of cough. This cough sounded thick and phlegmy, and was accompanied by congested sniffles; the sort of cough I was all too familiar with.

As I made my way up the stairs to investigate, I became sort of alarmed when I realized it was coming from Loki's room, though I can't say I was surprised. He had seemed a little under the weather for a few days, battling a runny nose and the occasional sneezing fit, which I had found funny at first. I wasn't exactly sure what I was expecting a god of mischief to sneeze like. All I did know was that I wasn't expecting it to sound exactly like a kitten; those tiny, rapid, airy sneezes that were both adorable and funny. Loki might have threatened to turn me into a cat toy for Sif for laughing at him when he sneezed, stating that they were embarrassing and hurt, but I couldn't help myself.

Even so, I was fully aware of the symptoms, and was just waiting for him to officially come down with a cold.

Sure enough, when I reached the open door to his room, I found Loki curled up in bed underneath a pile of blankets, coughing up a lung. He looked completely exhausted; his skin pale, his cheeks flushed with a slight fever, and his body shivering. The poor guy looked miserable.

"I'm dying..." he moaned, his voice weak and scratchy "I just know it, Elijah. I'm dying."

I chuckled a bit as I sat down next to him on his bed, "You aren't dying. Sounds like you just have a cold, is all."

Loki shook his head, "Asgardians do not get the illnesses that fester within Midgard. I have not felt this ill since I was a boy, and it took all of Asgard's Healers to make me well again. Without them, I will surely die."

While I pitied him, I doubted that a cold could prove fatal to a god. If he was an infant, then I'd be a lot more concerned about his condition, but from what I was seeing; the coughing, the runny nose and congestion, the scratchy throat, and the chills, I was more than sure that this would blow over in no time.

"I'll go get you some medicine," I told him, "Just drink plenty of fluids, and get plenty of sleep for now."

Loki gave a small moan of response before wrapping himself up more in his blankets and rolling over.

I searched high and low through the cupboards for cold medicine. I was notorious for developing one case of the sniffles or another at least twice a year, so I always made sure we kept ourselves stocked, but as I continued to rummage through the kitchen, I kept turning up empty handed. There wasn't a bottle of cough syrup or a box of cold and flu relief pills in sight! It would be nothing for me to run down to the dollar store and pick up some more, but even at the dollar store the stuff wasn't exactly cheap, and this just happened to be the week of poverty; where rent, bills, and groceries were paid for on the same day, and I didn't get paid again until next Friday. In other words: I was flat broke.

I was fortunate enough to find a bottle of Ibuprofen tucked in the back of the pet supply cupboard. What it was even doing there, I didn't know. I even double checked it to make sure it wasn't some sort of Ibuprofen for cats, or something before rushing it upstairs with a glass of water. This would help with Loki's fever, at least.

Loki was pretty much in the same state he was in when I had left him; curled up on his side in the blankets coughing up a lung and trying to sniffle his way through the congestion like his life depended on it. We didn't even have tissues. Fuck!

"Here," I said, dumping a few pills into my hand and handing him the glass of water, "It's not cold medicine, but it should take the edge off of your fever, at least."

"It won't make much of a difference..." Loki groaned as he rolled back over to face me.

"What do you mean?"

Loki mustered up a raspy chuckle, "Eli, I would need enough of that to effect a blue whale to beat this dreaded disease, and even then I doubt it would prove much use. Best to just let nature take it's course, and let it be."

I rolled my eyes, "Loki, it's just a cold. You aren't going to die from a cold. Worst comes to worst, I get a cold from hanging around you, but that's it."

Loki sat up in bed and looked at me curiously, "You've been inflicted with this illness before?"

"Many times, actually," I answered, "I tend to come down with a cold whenever there's a drastic weather change, so I normally spend the first few weeks of spring and fall congested and coughing."

"How do you beat it?"

"A little bit of ramen, a little bit of rest, and a _fuck ton_ of Benadryl."

Loki laid back down against the pillows on his bed. His expressions were blank, but his eyes were as easy to read as an open picture book.

"You still think you're dying, don't you..."

"How can I not?" he asked, "Midgardian illnesses are strange to me. I mean, remember that one time I found you keeled over the toilet at the apartment, vomiting your guts out? I honestly thought it was blood, and that you would die."

I chuckled, "And I kept telling you that it was most likely the damn spaghetti that'd been sitting in the fridge for who-knows-how-long? It didn't look or smell like it'd gone bad, but my stomach clearly stated otherwise."

"And that time you were writhing in pain for almost a week straight, and you were eating nonstop to try to soothe it?"

"Menstrual cycles are a bitch. What can I say?"

Loki hummed to himself. He muttered something about his father, Odin, and how he'd often state that sickness was one of humanity's defining qualities. I couldn't deny that. Heck, there were times I often used it as an excuse to get out of work for a day or two; something my family called "sick-of-this-shit" days. And there was no denying the vast numbers of diseases that could easily kill us on this planet. It made me wonder all the more what the hell kind of illnesses were on Asgard that could best a god, and how quickly they could snuff the life out of a mortal like me.

I managed to talk Loki into taking the pills I'd brought for him. Apparently, pills weren't a thing on Asgard, either, as he tried chewing them like they were Mike-and-Ikes, only to be greeted by the nasty-tasting medicine that was inside the soft capsules. His reaction almost reminded me of when we'd first met at Shuto when he choked on a long drag of one of my Cheyennes; lots of gagging and coughing, only this time there wasn't a surprisingly pleasant flavor for him to lick off of his lips. I could only urge him to wash it out with the glass of water and wait for the nasty taste to fade.

There were no wity remarks or bouts of sarcasm that followed the fit. I think he was too worn out for all that. He just finished his glass of water and laid back down, pulling the covers closer to him.

"Well, I'll let you sleep," I said as I moved towards the door, "I'm pooped. I need to get some sleep, too. Just let me know if you need anything."

I hadn't taken two steps out the door into the hallway before Loki called for me, and I turned on my heel and moved back to his bedside.

"Would it be presumptuous of me to ask you to stay?" he inquired.

"Not at all," I shrugged.

Now, I don't know how it happened, but a few minutes later we had arranged ourselves in such a way that anyone who would have looked into Loki's room would have thought I was a mother tending to her sick child. Loki had his head resting on a pillow on my lap as I sat on my knees. I ran my fingers through his silky black hair, feeling his fever burn from his scalp through the roots. He was so hot, it was possible that this could be the flu instead of a cold. It would better explain why he felt as miserable as he did.

"Can you sing?" Loki suddenly asked.

His question caught me off guard, "Um, what?"

"Can you sing?" he repeated.

"You want to hear me sing?"

Loki hummed and nodded.

"Alright..."

Honestly, there weren't all that many songs I preferred to sing aloud. I typically sang "Shots" and "Titanium" while I was in the shower, maybe a little Taylor Swift here and there, but aloud? My singing had gotten some pretty mixed reviews, my friends saying that I was pretty good at singing and had a great voice, and my family saying that I couldn't sing at all; another talent nobody in my family really possessed. However, I did happen to come across a song that made me think about Loki whenever I listened to it.

_"You're alone, you're on your own, so what?_

_Have you gone blind?_

_Have you forgotten what you have and what is yours?"_

"That isn't exactly a pleasant song..." Loki commented.

I chuckled, "Just shut up and listen."

_"Glass half empty, glass half full. Well either way, you won't be going thirsty._

_Count your blessings, not your flaws._

_You've got it all._

_You lost your mind in the sound._

_There's so much more._

_You can reclaim your crown._

_You're in control,_

_Rid of the monsters inside your head_

_Put all your faults to bed._

_You can be king again."_

Before I could continue to the next verse, Ben poked his head in through a gap in the door. He looked like he was about to say something when he stopped and took in the sight before him. I can only imagine how we looked, with Loki laying on my lap while I sat on my knees on his bed, stroking his hair while one of his hands wrapped around my left thigh like he was cuddling a pillow. I fought the blush threatening to burn through my face.

"Were you singing?" Ben finally asked me as he stared down at Loki.

"Yeah," I confessed, "So?"

"Nothing... nothing..." Ben pointed a twirling finger at us, gesturing towards what he was seeing, "What's going on here?"

"It's a long story, but Loki's come down with a cold. Possibly the flu."

Ben laughed, "Who gets a cold in July?"

"Loki, apparently."

"Morgan and I were going to go grocery shopping this morning. Figured you'd wanna come and get yours done today, too."

"Meh," I shrugged, "I'll probably just wait 'til Friday, like usual. Besides, I have a feverish god of mischief on my lap. This could take a while. I'll come down once I convince him a cold doesn't mean he's dying."

Ben nodded with a smirk, "Definitely makes you feel like you're dying, though."

"Oh, shush! I don't need Loki getting all melodramatic on me again."

"Loki is _asleep_ , bruh! He ain't hearin' shit!"

As I looked down at him, Loki stirred and snuggled closer to me, and the blush I'd been holding back exploded across my face full-force.

Ben grinned at me mockingly.

"Oooh! You like him!"

"You said it, not me."

"Admit it."

"I'm not admitting to anything."

"Just admit it."

"No!"

"Alright, listen up, bro," Ben said, stepping into the room, "You like him, and I can tell he likes you. And it's a goddamn tragedy, because he looks at you and sees the stars, and you look at him and see the sun, and both of you think the other is looking at the ground!"

I was speechless, and for a moment I felt panic flare in my chest. It was a story I was all too familiar with; being told someone liked me, getting my hopes up, only to have them knocked down and trampled upon. But this was no ordinary Jane or Joe off the street looking to get a rise out of me. This was Ben. My best friend. He would never play with my emotions like that. Never before had I heard a statement put so poetically. Never before had I heard Ben say something so poetically.

I looked back down to Loki, who appeared to be sleeping soundly on my lap. If he was awake right now, what would he say? Would he counter Ben's arguments like I had done, or would he be left just as speechless as I was right now?

"I'm just saying, dude," Ben piped up with a shrug, "God of Mischief likes you, and you two need to quit blowing your opportunities to tell each other, or both of you will regret it for the rest of your lives."


	12. Chapter 11: Loki

_"Alright, listen up, bro. You like him, and I can tell he likes you. And it's a goddamn tragedy, because he looks at you and sees the stars, and you look at him and see the sun, and both of you think the other is looking at the ground!"_

Strength, energy, focus, concentration, willpower, every ounce of my mind was used to keep up the façade of sleep as Eli and Ben spoke. It was difficult, very difficult, to keep myself from bolting up in bed and protesting, and at the same time I found myself contradicting myself.

_It's not true._

It was true.

_I don't see the stars in that pathetic Midgardian!_

I see all Nine Realms.

_I would never allow myself to fall in love with a useless mortal like him._

I already had.

_"I'm just saying, dude. God of Mischief likes you, and you two need to quit blowing your opportunities to tell each other, or both of you will regret it for the rest of your lives."_

As Ben's footfalls faded down the hall and away from my room, I focused back on Elijah. The hand that had been gently stroking my head was frozen in place. The voice that had been singing earlier, unobscured by the noise of a shower, had been silenced, and I could feel his heart fluttering within his chest as he held his breath. I don't think he believed Ben's words, like it was a lie that had been dealt to him over and over again. And who could blame him, really? A god and a mortal in love; it sounded like the ridiculous plot to a fairytale.

But it was our plot. It was our fairytale.

I laid there wondering, would this be a good time to sit up and just confess to what Ben had said? Should I not just do what he was urging us to do; confess my feelings for Elijah before fate inevitably tore us apart?

And that's what kept me from opening my eyes and stirring. Fate. My fate, that I would be taken away from this realm come next spring, and endure whatever punishment the Allfather had decided. The only thing that gave me hope was that the likelihood of an execution was slim. Frigga would never allow me to be put to death. It would kill her, and Odin knew that. So whatever fate was waiting for me, I knew there was still a possibility, however slim it might be, that I would see Eli again after.

Eventually, I felt Elijah shift. His arms rested on my shoulder, and I felt the weight of his head rest on top of them. Moments later, the room was filled with his light snoring. Poor man. He had probably already been exhausted from work, then to come home to me being ill with some dreaded Midgardian disease and trying to tend to me. I couldn't blame him for falling asleep, even after the shocking news Ben had dealt him.

I opened my eyes and turned my head to him, only to be greeted by his crystal blue eyes and a smug grin spread across his lips.

"I knew you were faking it, you little shit!" he laughed, "Even I can't fall asleep that fast."

"You tricked me," I stated as I sat up, "I'm impressed."

"Are you saying that I actually managed to trick Loki, the Trickster God? I'm impressed with myself!"

And he had every right to be. Very few bothered trying to lie to me, and fewer dared to make an attempt at tricking me. Most Asgardians were too proud for that, Midgardians were wise enough to avoid doing that, and few people throughout the rest of the cosmos knew of me, so they never even thought of tryng to do that. And yet, here I was. The victim of a simple con played by a simple human.

I don't think it was until that moment that the awkwardness of the situation started to settle in. Ben had confronted Eli about having feelings for me, a confrontation that I had overheard. I was certain we were thinking the same thing. What now? The information was out there. We both knew now, so what would happen now? I desperately wanted to say something, but then again, Ben's words rung true. I looked at Eli and saw the stars, but what if Ben had been wrong and Eli actually was looking at the ground?

"Listen," Elijah finally piped up, "About what Ben said earlier... Is it true? Do you really like me?"

Like? Was "like" really the right word for how I felt? The word felt insignificant; an understatement. In fact, how I felt couldn't be fully decribed in words. Fascinated, infatuated, full of joy just to be near him, happy to partake in his mundane, every day happenings with him, like... grocery shopping, or helping with chores; things I had honestly never even entertained the idea of doing before being banished, but being here, with Ben, Morgan, and especially Eli, I cared not for my life back on Asgard, with their high expectations and disapproving stares. I honesty couldn't care less if nobody came for me once my banishment ended. It wasn't like I was causing Midgard or the Aesir any trouble.

But there were no words that described all of that.

While the idea that I could be with Elijah was a pleasant one, it was also terrifying. It was a truth that I had acknowledged several times since I'd met him. I was a god, and he, a mere mortal, would perish long before I ever would. What then? I would spend the last several centuries of my life mourning and alone. Not even Frigga, with all her motherly wisdom, would be able to console me. It'd surely plunge me into the darkest depths of madness. Worse than Bifrost. Worse than New York, and that was what I could only think would happen.

Then again...

I couldn't lie to Elijah.

"I don't know," I responded, "There aren't any words that describe how I feel. In general, do I like you? Yes. Should I like you? Probably not."

Eli chuckled.

"I figured you'd say something like that," he said, "It's mutual. Do I like you? Obviously; a blind man could see that. Should I like you? Probably not. I mean, I'm a human, and you're a god. I'll eventually grow old and die. You'll live forever."

"Well, not necessarily forever," I countered, "I'll still grow old and die, if something else doesn't kill me first, but it'll take a much longer time."

"You get my point," Eli stated flatly, "It'll never be a question of who's gonna die first. It'll be a question of when am I going to die... but still..."

Although it wasn't spoken, I could see what was going through his mind; all the good times we've had so far, and the bad. Meeting at the convention, getting to know each other at the hotel, living together at the apartment, getting to know Morgan and Ben, moving to the house, exchanging personal life stories, and now discovering our mutual feelings for each other. So many changes in the few months Elijah and I had known each other.

"Does it really matter?" I asked, likely finishing off his thought, "I mean, I don't think love is measured by the amount of time you have with someone. It's about the memories you make with them, about building, growing, and changing along with them, and about staying with them through it all; the good times, and the bad."

An affectionate smile spread across Eli's features, and we found ourselves gazing longingly into each other's eyes.

"Me too," he remarked, leaning towards me, "I believe that, too."

Each second found the space between us growing narrower and narrower until I could feel his breath brush across my face. He tilted his head one way, and I tilted mine the other. I could have sworn that I could feel the heat of desire radiating off the surface of his lips as they hovered over mine, the heat of fever likely radiating off of them.

As Eli brought a hand up to my cheek, a flash of lightning and a clap of thunder sent me retreating backwards against the wall beside my bed. My heart went from racing with anticipation to racing with anxiety. It'd been sunny just moments ago, and now rain beat down against the windows as the wind howled outside.

Damn it! Damn it all!

Eli, who was equally as startled by the sudden change in weather, had moved over to a nearby window and peered curiously up towards the sky.

"That's weird," he commented, "The forecast wasn't calling for showers and thunderstorms 'til next week."

"Well..." I piped up, "... Michigan, right?"

"I guess so. That lightning bolt looked like it was close enough to have hit the house. I'm gonna go make sure everything's all right."

"Alright..." I muttered as he disappeared out into the hallway, but I knew better. Thunderstorms didn't just appear out of nowhere like this, even in a place where the weather was as wild and unpredictable as Michigan.

Slowly, I stood up from my bed and made my way towards the window. The sky was a deep grey, and the rain was already coming down hard. The trees and the corn growing in the field surrounding the property swayed in the wind's wrath. I looked out into the yard and saw Eli doing a sweep of property, checking the trees, house, and neighboring houses for damage. A branch had fallen from the wallnut tree next to the driveway, and the garbage bin had been blown into the ditch beside the road, but none of that was what I was looking for.

"Come on..." I growled, "I know you're here. Where are you?"

Before I could search further, I froze. The hairs on my arms stood on end, and I was aware of someone else's presence in the room; a presence I had felt hundreds of thousands of times.

"You should know it's impolite to enter someone else's home without knocking first," I stated as I straightened myself, concealing my sickly appearance with a thin veil of magic as I turned to face my unwelcome visitor, "Brother..."

Sure enough, standing in the doorway outside my room, soaked to the bone with the rain, was Thor. His mouth was flattened into a straight line that matched that of his brow; stoic and showing neither joy nor disdain as his piercing blue eyes dug into me. Mjolnir was grasped firmly in his right hand while his left was clenched into a fist.

"Hello, brother," he greeted, his deep, proud voice lacking in enthusiasm at having to see me.

"I knew it wouldn't be long before you came looking for me," I said as he stepped into the room, "You just can't stay away, can you?"

"Not with you running around freely on Earth, I can't. Never know what you might be plotting."

For a while, all we could do was stare each other down as we circled in the bedroom. My senses were on high alert as Thor flipped Mjolnir a number of times, and that's when the reality of the situation set in. I was defenseless. I had nothing but my dagger, tucked in it's sheath beneath my pillow. Thor had his hammer and was stronger than I was, especially now, with a fair portion of my magic drained and my abilities scarcely more extraordinary than the most extraordinary Midgardian. If he wanted to engage in combat with me now, I'd lose pretty immediately.

"So..." I spoke up, breaking the silence between us, "What are you doing here?"

"I've come to take you back to Asgard," Thor replied.

I chuckled, "Of course you have."

I'd already known what his response was going to be the moment the question left my lips, but his words still made me take a step back in reluctance.

"Why bring me back?" I asked, "Surely the Allfather didn't order this, meaning you're committing treason, _meaning_ that all of this is going to be more trouble than it's worth. Unless you desire to be banished, as well. _Again_."

"Father has not settled on a final punishment for you," Thor said, "Meaning that there's still time for you to fall back into his favor. We can be brothers again. Everything will go back to the way things were before."

And here he goes again. Always thinking that things were that simple. Always thinking that things could go back to how they were, and not seeing the bigger picture. There was a reason why I led the frost giants into Asgard, putting an abrupt end to Thor's coronation at the last possible second. He wasn't ready to be king, and he'd probably never would be at this rate.

"Thanks, but no thanks," I said, turning away, "Best to let things be as they are."

Thor's brows furrowed in confusion, "What are you saying? You don't want to go back?"

"Not really, no. I'm _happy_ here, Thor. Like, _actually_ happy. You should be, too. I haven't tried committing mass genocide, or taking over the planet since being put in exile."

Thor rolled his eyes, "What do you want, a gold star?"

I shot him a questioning glance, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Honestly, I don't know. Tony Stark says it a lot."

"Look, there's no reason for me to go back to Asgard," I said sternly, "I still have roughly eight months left until my banishment is up. That should feel like a day to you. Plus, I like it here. I have friends, nobody has overly high expectations of me, and I'm not being drug on foolish adventures with my oaf of a brother every couple of months. Elijah has given me a roof over my head, and he's the greatest thing to have happened to me this millennium."

Thor's face twisted into a disapproving expression. Something in between shock and disgust.

"By the Gods! You love him, don't you?"

"So what if I do? I'm happy. I'm behaving, for once. I'm not doing anyone on Midgard any harm, so why leave?"

Thor set Mjolnir down beside my bedroom door, and stormed up to me.

"Loki, enough of this!" he growled, "You don't belong here. You belong with us on Asgard."

"No, I think you're wrong," I hissed, "I _do_ belong here. I've never felt like I've belonged more anywhere else."

"What of your life on Asgard? Our father, our friends, mother. Are you really going to torment mother like this? Abandoning her and everything she has given you?"

"Don't you dare drag her into this!" I shouted, "Who put me here, huh, brother? _Who put me here_?!"

"You know damn well who!" Thor yelled, grabbing me by the front of my shirt and drawing back a balled fist, "You're coming home, whether you like it or not."

I tried fighting him, pulling away and trying free myself from his grip. I wouldn't let him take me, even if it meant taking a few punches from the Thunderer.

Before he could land a single blow on me, however, a familiar sound filled the room. It was an airy sound, like heavy metal being tossed into the air. As I turned to where it'd come from, the glint of metal caught my eye, but this wasn't any old metal.

Standing in the doorway, soaked from the rain, with Mjolnir grasped firmly in his hands, was Elijah.

In that moment, I think Thor and I both had the same look on our faces: pure shock. A mere Midgardian was standing here holding the famed hammer of the God of Thunder; a weapon that couldn't be lifted by anyone or anything, no matter how strong, unless they were worthy.

Eli's eyes burned as he stared my brother down. The anger in his expressions sent a chill down my spine. He looked about ready to send Mjolnir through Thor's face, and the fact that he was wielding the hammer at all said that he could very well do it, if he wanted. Because, at this very moment, he was worthy; trying to prevent an intruder from taking me when I had no business going, and Thor was not; trying to smuggle a war criminal in exile back into Asgard, and committing treason to do so.

"Let go of him," Eli demanded, his voice lacking so much emotion, it was terrifying, " _Now_!"

Slowly, Thor released his grip on my shirt and moved away from me with his hands raised. Just as slowly, Elijah lowered Mjolnir.

"Get out of my house!" he growled, nodding towards the door.

Thor complied with his demand, carefully stepping around him, stopping just long enough to let Eli hand Mjolnir back to him. While it was barely noticeable, his hammer did seem heavier in Thor's grasp than it did in Eli's; a very clear sign of who exactly was in the wrong here.

I continued to stare at Elijah in disbelief as my brother disappeared out of sight. All I could do was try to wrap my head around the spectacle I'd just witnessed, and the even greater spectacle standing before me.

As the front door slammed, Eli turned to me, "That was your brother?"

I nodded.

"What an ass!"

In one swift move, I crossed the room and grabbed his shoulders. Before I knew it, I'd pulled him against me and my lips pressed into his. They were cold and wet from the rain, but still soft, like the petals of a rose. He tensed and let out a surprised sqeak for all but a moment before he relaxed and went silent.

Our lips parted with a scarcely audible smooching sound. I looked into his astonished gaze, which likely matched my own.

"Don't you realize what you just did?" I asked.

Elijah blinked and gave a shrug, "Piss off the God of Thunder, and kiss the God of Mischief?"

If I wasn't so shocked, I would have laughed at his reply. My mind was racing, trying to discern whether or not it'd all been real, or if it was my fever getting to me.

"You lifted _Mjolnir_!" I gasped, "The one weapon in all Nine Realms nobody can wield but Thor, and you _lifted_ it!"

"Wait a minute..." Eli said, "You're saying that hammer was Mjolnir?"

I nodded.

"And I lifted it?"

I nodded again.

" _How_?!"

"That's what I would like to know," I replied, "The only people I've seen who have been able to lift Thor's hammer are Odin and Thor himself. Not even _I_ have ever been able to lift Mjolnir."

Elijah and I sat at the edge of my bed, turning over the possibilities in our heads. The only possibility that I could think of, aside from worthiness, was Odin. It was possible that, with his all-seeing eye, he saw what Thor was trying to do and lifted the enchantment on it long enough to get my brother to back down. There was no way that Eli had been able to break the enchantment all on his own.

Whatever the case may be, I was only thankful that it worked. I could only imagine what would happen if Thor would have brought me back to Asgard, forcing me to leave this place I'd come to call home.

It'd ruin me.

* * *

Ben laughed as we recounted what'd transpired that morning to Ben when he'd woken up that afternoon.

"How the hell did you lift Mjolnir?" he chuckled at Eli, "You ain't worthy!"

"In that moment he was, I guess," I commented, "I wouldn't have believed it either, had I not seen it for myself."

"Damn!" Morgan squeaked as she gawked at Elijah, "Was it heavy?"

Eli shugged, "Eh, lighter than I thought it'd be, but it still had a little weight to it."

"You were grasping it with both hands," I pointed out.

"Well, I basically walked into a six foot, four behemoth about to beat the shit out of my friend. That is not exactly a, 'Hi, how are you?' scenario."

Ben started laughing once more.

"Don't give me that bullshit!" he piped up in a snarky tone, jutting out his jaw to Eli, "I heard about how you and Loki were kissing!"

Eli and I exchanged a glance, guilty smiles playing on our lips. I don't think he could have cared less about what Ben or Morgan thought about it. In truth, he looked genuinely proud about it, and rightfully so. I mean, how many other Midgardians out there could say they had kissed a god. Thus far, I only knew of two: Thor's precious Jane Foster, and now Elijah.

My precious Elijah.

"Does that mean you two is the official?" Morgan asked, bouncing in her seat.

Eli cocked a curious brow to me, "Is we the official?"

I could only lean forward and answer his question with a passionate kiss. In the background, I could hear Morgan gleefully claping and Ben giggling like a loon. It was an answer enough for them, and more than enough of an answer for Eli, and I pulled away for a moment just long enough to verbally confirm it with the broken English I'd grown accustomed to hearing every day.

"We is."


	13. Chapter 12: Eli

 

As per usual in Michigan, the summer didn't last. Eventually the sweltering heat we'd had for three full months was replaced with mild weather that hung around the sixties and seventies for two weeks before dropping into the forties and fifties with the onset of fall. The leaves gradually changed from green to yellow, then from yellow to orange before falling and coating the ground. Not long after, the winds picked up and carried them off, saving the four of us from spending hours laboriously raking the leaves up into piles...

But that still didn't stop us from trying, and with the few piles we were able to rake up, Loki got to enjoy the simple pleasures of playing in a pile of leaves. Ben, Morgan, and I were more than a little shocked to hear he'd never done such a thing on Asgard when he was a kid, stating that he usually spent most of his time indoors studying and, or, practicing magic. He didn't really get how playing in a big ol' pile of leaves could be fun until he found himself rolling in one, the four of us throwing arms full at each other until the pile was scattered across the yard, and we were forced to rake them up again.

Day by day, the weather got colder and colder, alternating between being sunny, rainy, windy, or just downright dreary. I think that's when I finally picked up on one of Loki's phobias: thunderstorms. As we were lucky enough to not have very many during the spring or summer, I had to witness it in the middle of the night when a particularly loud clap of thunder woke me from my sleep, and I found him cowering underneath the covers. It turns out that Thor isn't the exception. Loki explained that his brother's ability to conjure thunder and lightning scared him as a kid, and still scared him now, more than a thousand years later.

I couldn't give him any crap for it. I'd grown up with globophobia, one of the most ridiculous phobias I could have been cursed with: the fear of balloons. Once Loki knew that, he didn't feel nearly as embarrassed about being an astraphobe. If anything it became a regular thing, picking on each other about each other's phobias from time to time; friendly jesting, as Loki called it.

Eventually, the season bled into the irritating phenomenon I'd come to call Hallowthanksmas, the time of year when Halloween was right around the corner, but the world was gearing up for Christmas, leaving Thanksgiving as just an afterthought. In my mind, every month should be spent focusing on its respected holiday this time of year. October was for Halloween. November was for Thanksgiving. December was for Christmas, but the rest of the world didn't seem to care about any of that and started putting up their trees and lights as soon as Halloween was over with.

Watching Loki experience these holidays was more of a treat than all the candy, turkey, and Santa-shaped cookies in the universe. On one of our excursions to the grocery store, I'd become sidetracked by the walls of Halloween decorations and costume masks. It wasn't until I found Loki prodding at a life-sized plastic skeleton that I had to explain the concept of Halloween, and, as I was well-rounded on the matter, I did so in every way my mind could come up with off the top of my head. Not that it helped much. He still found the whole concept pointless and wrinkled his nose at all, but I'd learned to make peace with the fact that Halloween wasn't everyone's cup of tea; no matter how weird I thought they were for thinking that.

And that was just the costumes and decorations _alone_. Trying to explain the concept of trick-or-treating... now _that_ was an entirely different ordeal on its own.

Then there was a matter of the food. I'd learned several months back that Loki ate like a bird, taking small, refined bites at a time and never eating very much. He didn't take much interest in the candy or the sweets, but he went ham on the turkey and mashed potatoes, or about as ham as a bird like him could. It was especially interesting whenever the four of us roommates would go to a buffet, where Ben would be clearing his third plate of food, whereas Loki would be finishing off his first.

Loki took a little bit more of a liking to Thanksgiving than any of the other holidays that fell under the fat season. As per tradition in my family, I packed up a cold cut platter and went over to my grandparent's house for Thanksgiving dinner, and, as per usual, my little God of Mischief tagged along with me. Between the long tables of food and various people crowded around sharing stories, he said it thoroughly reminded him of the the banquet halls on Asgard, only with less drinking and people smashing their mugs into smithereens on the floor. He told me it was a nice change of pace for him; a little slice of home without all the noise and the messes he despised.

Loki even managed to bond with my grandparents while we were there. Naturally, we left out the part about him being god. Proving it to my parents had been difficult enough, and it was a bonified miracle that they took it in strides. Loki probably could have used up whatever he had left of his godly abilities and magic to try and prove it to my grandparents, and it still probably wouldn't register with them. However, he and my grandfather did manage to bond over hunting and the old westerns that still aired on television, and he and my grandmother gossiped for hours about different family members, with my grandmother griping about my various aunts and uncles, and him mostly griping about his brother and his father.

What Loki didn't count on, after we had Thanksgiving dinner at my grandparent's house, were the two equally as large dinners that followed; the one my parents held Thanksgiving day, and the one we all held at the house the day after. The lot of us were stuffed for days afterwards. I swear, I thought Loki would vomit if he ever saw another plate of turkey after that.

Then, much too soon for my liking, the first snowflakes started coating the ground. They came a little later than usual, due to the warmer weather we'd been having, and I would have preferred it if they never came, but when they did, and as the temperature outside started to drop, it brought up a new delema: Loki's Jotun form.

During the summer, it seemed only the bowls of ice cream we ate were cold enough to trigger the transformation. Fall had been so mild that it was pushed to the back of our minds, but now that winter was here, the _entire world_ might as well have been a bowl of ice cream. Loki stared wearing his Asgardian garb again, and it seemed the leather of his coat and trousers along with his tunic were enough to keep old Jack Frost at bay, but the more the temperature dropped, as the number dropped into the single digits, the more garmets that had to be added. Gloves, a scarf, insulated boots. At one point, Loki even managed to conjure up a heavy fur cloak with a hood, and even then there were times when I could see his eyes change from green to red.

Needless to say it didn't take long for Ben and Morgan to catch on to his secret, especially one morning when they decided to be smart and nail Loki in the face with a snowball. I'd just gotten home from work at the time, watching it all unfold, and the only thing I heard when I left my car was Ben shouting, " _What the fuck_?!"

The next several minutes were a combination of explaining and us freezing our asses off in the the snow. Had I been Loki in this scenario, I probably would have run and hide, or at the very least turned away at Ben's reaction. Morgan was more or less enthralled by the frost giant's blue skin and markings, but Ben was going into survival mode. Body tense and ready to fight. Loki's reaction to this scenario, however, was far more tame and dignified than I expected. Slowly, he pulled back the hood of his cloak, unraveled his scarf, and allowed Ben to absorb what he was really seeing. He slowly gave the same explanation I was given back when I caught my first glimpses of his Jotun form; perhaps with a bit more composure this time. When all had been said and done, the relationship between Ben and Loki was the same as it'd always been; brotherly.

One thing that perplexed all of us, though, was when Ben went in for a brotherly hug - a brug, as we called it - and came out of it with a burn to his hand. I guess Loki and I had gotten so used to hugging and curling up beside one another while he was in that form that we completely forgot about the natural consequences of a human coming into contact with a frost giant's skin. It brought about more questions that none of us could answer. Why did Ben get burned by Loki's touch, and I didn't? Why did Loki's skin turn back into that of a human whenever I touched him?

Morgan tried to be cute in providing us answers, saying that it was because Loki and I were soulmates, and things of the like. Honestly, I think Loki and I could have cared less and rolled with it, but deep down we both knew that wasn't the case. For us, it was an anomaly that had no logical explanation. All we could do, unless the answers miraculously revealed themselves, was accept it; both as a part of our relationship, and as a part of our lives.

* * *

A few weeks had passed since the incident with Ben and Loki, and before long Christmas Eve was upon us. With it came a great deal of excitement, anticipation, and a _fuck ton_ of stress. Lakehouse Foods was merciless in the amount work that was being placed on janitorial, especially with the Hi-Lo drivers making messes left and right to keep up with the increase of work put on the line workers. Every week brought one big spill or another. Ranch, molasses, dip, and dressing; if it was being made, chances were I was going to be cleaning at least a gallon of it up off of the floor. I was never alone in my struggles. The four other janitors I worked with all had messes of their own, none of which were any more pleasant than whatever I was working on.

Then there was a matter of gifts for everyone. This was a dilemma I faced every single year. I never knew what to get everyone. Ben was pretty easy to figure out; video games, anime, leather, knives, dragons. Morgan wasn't all that complicated, either; make-up, hair dye, reptiles, art supplies. Now Loki... _that_ was a bit trickier. I mean, how do you find gifts for a God of Mischief without fueling the mischief? Honestly, he didn't seem all that concerned with materialistic things. He was at his happiest here amongst friends, and he'd come to love my family like it was his own. If anything, a quiet Christmas morning cuddling on a couch reading a book with a hot cup of tea by his side was perfect for him.

And that's when it hit me...

"What is the purpose of this tradition again, Eli?" Loki asked me as we placed our presents under the cheap plastic Christmas tree with the others that Ben and Morgan had put there earlier that evening, "Milk, cookies, stockings, and now this?"

"It varies from household to household," I replied, "The basic concept is that if your good all year, you get presents. If your bad, you get a lump of coal. That's about it in a nutshell."

Loki looked up at me with a raised brow, "I attempted to destroy Jotunheim and invaded New York..."

"Yeah..."

"So I take it, when we unwrap these gifts in the morning, I can expect to receive mounds of coal?"

I laughed, "Well, you've been pretty well-behaved since we first met, so you might find one or two goodies under the tree tomorrow."

Loki grinned and chuckled with me, "You're too kind to me, Elijah, but what of your parents? You won't be spending the holidays with them?"

"It was kind of hard to decide. I did want to spend Christmas with them; listen to some TSO, watch a few Christmas specials, but at the same time I wanted to be here with my friends. With you."

"You know I'd go anywhere with you. You need only ask."

We smiled warmly at each other before I nodded, "I decided we'd spend Christmas here with Ben and Morgan, and we could spend New Year's with my mom and dad."

"Sounds like fun."

I chuckled to myself. Loki really had no clue what was in store for him come New Year's Eve. True, I did usually spend it with my mom and dad, but we typically went over to a friend of the family's house. Movies, card games, gossip, waiting for the ball to drop at midnight, and now that I was twenty-one, I expected it to be a lot like how it was on my birthday. With lots and lots of booze. It was crazy and noisy. Loki would think he was used to it after living with Morgan, Ben, and I for months on end, but he really didn't have a clue.

Just as I was putting my last present under the tree, a shadow came over top of us, blocking out the light from the ceiling light overhead. Loki and I looked up to see Morgan standing over us with a cheap clump of ornamental holly dangling from her fingers.

"Mistletoe, motherfuckers!" she squeaked with a grin, "Now _kiss_!"

Loki and I looked at each other with closed-mouthed smiles. He was trying just as hard as I was not to laugh. Morgan was obviously drunk, swaying on her feet, her face bright red, and her voice loud. _And_ I had seen her in the kitchen making mixed drinks with Ben not an hour ago. It was increasingly difficult to take her seriously when she was like this.

"Morgan," Loki eventually piped up, looking up at her, "I believe that's holly you're holding in your hand, not mistletoe."

"Whatever," Morgan whined, "Just kiss already."

"You see us kiss hundreds of times a day..."

"Overstatement..." I muttered under my breath.

"Okay, you see us kiss practically every day."

"I don't care! Just kiss," Morgan shoved the holly closer between us, "Do it for the mistletoe."

Personally, I think Loki and I had accepted our fate the moment the "mistletoe" was placed over us. It'd been a common theme. If there was a bet, it was a bet that he or myself couldn't kiss each other for however long Morgan wanted to see us kiss; the norm was around ten to twenty pictures snapped on her IPad or phone. If it was a drinking game, eventually she or Ben would make a rule that whenever it was my or Loki's turn, we either had to kiss or we had to chug our alcoholic beverage of choice, and the choice was pretty obvious; however, there were times where one of us would chug our drink just for the sake of getting drunk. If it was a game of truth or dare, dares would basically go the same way bets did.

Pointless as it might have been, Loki and I made a game out of it ourselves... A very _mischievous_ game. It started off cute. When one or the other would get tired of kissing, one of us would blow air into the other's mouth. Not only did we find this humorous, but it interrupted the moment just enough that we could get back to whatever task we'd been doing before locking lips. If Ben or Morgan had been particularly insistent about seeing us kiss, we would stage a lovers' spat; basically one of us would say something like 'I don't want to', and the other would respond with something like 'What do you mean by that?', and we'd just let it escalate from there. At some points, though, it'd work a little bit too well, and they would think Loki and I were making each other unhappy; at which point Loki would raise a brow to them and ask, "Are you two ever _not_ going to fall for that?"

And then there were those moment when Ben would literally have to tear us off of each other just to get shit done.

I loved those moments. I would have never imagined a frost giant's kiss to be as tender and warm as Loki's. They spoke volumes without words, whispering about love and protection with the slightest hint of something dirty. That's how I knew. I knew he loved me like no other. It was always poured out in his kisses; forced upon us by our pushy room mates, or not.

Something about this kiss was special, though. As my lips met his, and that blanket of love and warmth washed over me, it was as if the rest of the universe had fallen away, and it was just him and me. Maybe it was the effect of the holiday season. Maybe it was the soft glow of the Christmas tree in our unlit living room. Maybe it was just me. Whatever it was, it was spectacular. Magical. It was like nothing I had ever known of love before.

As we pulled away, after who knows how long, Loki's tongue ghosted over his lips for a moment.

"Vanilla?" he eventually piped up.

I laughed. Whenever we kissed, Loki made it a game to try to guess which flavor of Cheyenne's I'd been smoking beforehand. His little fiasco in the car during Shuto Con made him reluctant to try smoking another one for himself, but it didn't stop him from trying to guess which sweet flavor was on my lips whenever we kissed. Sometimes he was right, sometimes he was wrong. Either way, it was adorably amusing to watch him try.

"Bingo," I confirmed.

As Morgan stood beside us, laughing and snorting, and Loki and I finished up putting presents under the tree, Ben walked in from the dining room, drinks in hand.

"Hey, Loki!" he called out, setting the drinks down on the coffee table before sitting down in his gaming chair and picking up a controller, "Wanna play a little Mortal Kombat?"

Loki waved him off, "No, thank you."

"Why not, man?"

"If I wanted to engage in combat with mortals, I could just go outside."

I struggled to contain my laughter. Loki was a lot like me in the sense that he didn't understand the concept of video games, and showed very little interest in playing them. On the one hand, it was nice not to feel alone in my disinterest. On the other hand, though, Loki had seen Ben play Mortal Kombat countless times since we'd moved to the house, yet the game's title still hadn't registered with him. That, or he was being a smart ass.

"Dude, just try it," Ben urged.

"No, thank you." Loki repeated.

"Come on..."

"No."

"Please?"

"What part of this discussion are you not getting?"

Ben crossed his arms, "What's the matter? Afraid of getting your ass kicked by a human?"

Even Morgan and I felt that one as a collective "Ooohh" filled the room. Loki stared Ben down as he got up from beside me.

"Do I sense a challenge, Benjamin?" he asked with a smirk.

"Maybe."

"You would challenge a god in hand-to-hand combat?"

"You don't look so tough to me. And we'll be using controllers, so what does it matter?"

"Now, Loki," I piped up, "Know your limitations."

My jesting tone seemed to fall on deaf ears as Ben and Loki stood toe to toe, staring each other down. For a moment, I braced myself for a live-action scene of Mortal Kombat. They both looked like they could have started throwing punches at each other, and if Ben thought he could win against Loki in a fist fight, he'd be sorely mistaken. Loki might have not had all of his godly strength, but that didn't make him weak.

Eventually, Loki lifted his head up and grinned.

"Challenge accepted."

* * *

Morgan and I sat back on the sofa watching this spectacle unfold. Two chairs had been pulled from the kitchen and placed directly in front of the TV; Ben sitting to my left, and Loki on the right. Both were clutching their controllers, fingers slamming against buttons madly as their characters fought viciously on the screen; Ben playing Sub Zero, and Loki playing Scorpion. It was a foreign sight, seeing Loki leaned forward in his chair, leaning side to side as he played, eyes locked onto the screen, and fingers probably moving blindly across every button on his designated controller, hoping desperately that one or more of them would create the right move that could take down Ben's character. As usual, whenever Loki would manage to land a powerful blow onto Sub Zero, Ben would cuss up a storm, and vice versa.

And all Morgan and I could do was sit back and enjoy the show.

"This is even better than I thought it would be!" I laughed as I took a drag of my Cheyenne.

Loki was holding his own against Ben. They had gone several rounds, now; neither of them winning, but having defended themselves long enough to run out of time. Maybe it was luck, maybe it was Loki playing tricks, but either way it was _really_ pissing Ben off.

"You got this, babe!" Morgan cheered, "Kick his butt!"

"I'm trying!" Ben whined, "This stupid fucker won't fucking die!"

"Don't take that shit, Loki!" I shouted, "Wipe the floor with him!"

"With pleasure!" Loki called back.

The room was filled with the fleshy sound of blows landing, cursing, and swearing for only a minute before being replaced with two words: _F_ _inish him_! Ben let out an enraged scream that broke the sound barrier as Scorpion sent his _kunai_ through Sub Zero's head. Loki thrust up a fist victoriously as the word ' _Fatality_ ' filled the room.

"Son of a bitch..." Ben groaned, looking over to him, "You cheated."

"I won that fair and square, and you know it." Loki countered as he stood up from his chair and made his way over to sit next to me.

"I didn't think the God of Mischief could win anything fair and square."

"Do you truly think so little of me?"

"C'mon, Loki," I prodded, "Tell us how you really did it."

"By pressing every godforsaken button on that goddamn controller. Hel, even I'm not completely sure what I did there."

For a while, the four of just just sat there, gathered around the coffee table, smoking and gobbling up the Christmas cookies that sat there on a plate as Christmas music played from a radio sitting in the kitchen. Loki's arm wrapped around my shoulders and held me close as I leaned my head against his chest, listening to the steady drumming of his heart. Morgan and Ben cuddled on the other end of the couch; Ben rubbing her shoulders, and Morgan playing with his beard.

"Can we open presents tonight?" she asked, staring longingly at the gifts nestled under the tree.

"Babe, Christmas is tomorrow," Ben reminded her, "You have to wait."

"But I don't wanna wait. Can we open them at midnight?"

"No, otherwise what was the point of us putting them all under the tree today? What would we do on Christmas morning? Sing carols and chug eggnog?"

"We can do that."

"No!"

"I have to agree with Ben," I piped up, "If we open presents now, there won't be anything all that interesting to do in the morning. Honestly, I get bored of watching the same old Christmas specials every single year. The presents and the food really keep it going."

"And it's only natural to abide by tradition," Loki added, "If the presents are meant for Christmas morning, then Christmas morning it should be."

"Okay," Morgan sighed, defeated, "So what do we all want to do?"

The four of us looked to one another, mentally searching for answers. Personally, I would have been fine with going to bed. I'd come home from work earlier that morning, and hadn't slept a wink all day. Loki must have sensed my exhaustion, because he looked from me to Ben and Morgan and claimed that he was ready for bed, even though it was only ten o'clock, and he'd made a habit of coming to bed at around three in the morning. Although she may not want to admit it, Morgan also looked like she was ready to pass out, and I wouldn't be surprised if she was out before her head hit the pillows with all the alcohol that she had flowing though her.

Eventually we came to the conclusion 'Sleep first, presents later'. Sleeping would make the time go by faster for the impatient Morgan, and we could open presents once everyone was up and around.

Once Loki and I were settled into bed, I braced myself for one of our late-night discussions. Loki normally started them, asking about anything from politics to pop culture. Sometimes they were easy questions with lengthy discussions. Other times, they were difficult questions with unknown answers. I hoped more than anything that it would be something easy enough for my thoroughly fried brain to handle, if he did decide to strike up a discussion.

"Elijah, may I ask you something?"

_Oh, boy. Here we go..._

"Sure," I replied, "What's up?"

"Well... you're more familiar with these things than I am, and it's taboo to discuss things like this on Asgard. Is there a term for one who feels they have an... overlap of gender identities, or, perhaps, moving between genders?"

"I believe that would be being described as gender fluid, or genderqueer."

"Ah, I see. Because that is how I feel. Due to my shape-shifting ability, it's liberating in a way. I don't feel like I have to be just one thing. I can be anything."

"Ahh," I hummed, "Is that where the story about you and Sleipnir comes from?"

Loki was silent, and I could tell it was from embarrassment, just from the tension that was in the air. I was half joking, but maybe I'd been a little too insensitive this time around.

"It's okay," I said wrapping my arms around his waist, "You can tell me. I won't judge."

Eventually Loki sighed, "Alright, yes. That is where that legend comes from. It wasn't my _intention_ , mind you. It just sort of happened. Back on topic, the reason I bring this up with you is because you don't look down on it like the Aesir. Even my mastering magic from Frigga was looked down upon in disdain, because magic is seen as a woman's art. I mastered magic long before I did hand-to-hand combat; a more... _widely accepted_ skill for a man."

I sat up in bed and looked at Loki tiredly. The Loki I'd read up on in myths and legends didn't seem to give two shits about what anyone thought he did. To an extent, this Loki was kind of the same way. A little less malicious, and prettier than I'd seen in pictures online, but there was one thing that set him apart from just being another Google article: his heart. He'd obviously been hurt over, and over, and over again. He'd been neglected, ignored, betrayed, and deceived, but he still had the capacity to be kind and loving, even to someone as extraordinarily meager in might and power as me; a human. That was something no book, documentary, or internet search could ever give me.

And I was continuing to learn more about him. Every day, something new. The hatred he held for his Jotun form, being pansexual, preferring his life here on Earth over his previous one on Asgard, his fear of thunder, the feelings he had for me, and now perhaps one of my biggest discoveries yet; that he was also gender fluid, and that there was just as much, if not more, discrimination against that on Asgard than there was here.

"What is this, the 1800's?" I asked, "I'm not sure how sheltered the Aesir are, but it's the twenty-first motherfucking century! Nobody on Earth really gives a damn, except the narrow-minded conservatives; and really, not many give a damn about them, either. You can be whatever you want. Man, woman, both, horse, whatever. You should do whatever makes you happy. _Be_ whatever makes you happy."

Loki pulled me closer to his chest. As his arms caressed my back and he draped a leg around mine, I found myself slipping further and further away into the depths of sleep.

"You really _are_ too kind to me," I heard him whisper, "How did I become so lucky? I'm glad, Eli. I really am glad to have met you."

I rested my head back against his chest, my ear pressing into the center of his breast bone. I drifted off listening to two sounds: the distant sound of Christmas music that Ben and Morgan had left playing in the kitchen, and steady drumming of the God of Mischief's heart.

* * *

A gentle shake to my shoulder jostled me from my sleep. The first thing that I was able to register through my leftover grogginess was that it was still dark outside. It probably wasn't even six o'clock in the morning. The next thing that I was able to register was Loki's silhouette sitting up in bed next to me, his long hair fluffed out with bedhead, and the little moonlight shining in though the window reflecting off his eyes and the skin of his shoulders.

"Are you awake?" he asked me.

"I am now..." I muttered as I stretched my limbs.

I reached for my phone and squinted against the brightness of the screen as I checked the time.

4:48 AM.

"Are Ben and Morgan up?" I asked.

"They are not," Loki replied, "but I think we can afford to be a little naughty this morning."

"And what, get a sneak peek at our Christmas presents?"

"Precisely."

I laughed as I rubbed my eyes and followed him out of bed, "You're just as bad as Morgan."

Slowly, we crept down the stairs, trying to keep the steps from creaking loudly under our feet. The living room was still illuminated by the lights on the Christmas tree, and the radio in the kitchen was still spewing Christmas music, playing _Jingle Bell Rock_ for the billionth time within the past twenty-four hours. Sif was curled up asleep in a cat tree nearby, oblivious to our presence as we entered the room and settled ourselves in front of the mound of gifts. Some were neatly wrapped, glaring out in strong contrast to my... I don't even know what to call it. Balls of wrapping paper? Others were in bags, my eyes easily picking out the ones I had packed for everybody.

Since we both knew we weren't going to be able to peek into the wrapped gifts without being totally busted by Ben and Morgan when they woke up, Loki and I each snatched up a bag with our names on it, and placed them on our laps. The present Loki had grabbed was from Ben, and the one I had grabbed was from Morgan.

"I wonder what Ben thought of to get you." I whispered, trying to quietly work my fingers around the tissue paper stuffed inside my bag to see what lay underneath.

I only managed to catch a glimpse of something black and fabric before I felt Loki's hand rest against my arm. In the warm glow of the multi-colored lights on the Christmas tree in our dark living room, something about the warmth he held in his emerald eyes and his playful smile made it seem like something out of dream.

"I was thinking we could open our gifts to one another," he spoke softly, "Save the rest for when Ben and Morgan wake up."

I smiled, "Alright..."

The sound of wrapping paper crinkling made me wince as I struggled to reach over the other presents to grab one of the bags I had packed for Loki. Every movement was torture as my arms cramped trying to silently slide the dark blue gift bag out from underneath the plastic branches. My back ached try to arch my body over the rest of the presents without disturbing them. Ben may be a heavy sleeper, but Morgan wasn't, and I wouldn't put it past her to rat us out if she found out Loki and I were doing our presents early.

Finally, after several long seconds of doing evasive maneuvers around the other presents, I managed to work one of Loki's presents out from underneath the tree; the one I desperately wanted him to open first. I was surprised and a little confused to find that Loki hadn't reached for a present at all in the time that I'd been working on grabbing his. Instead, he sat there patiently with his legs crossed curiously looking over the bag that I had pulled out.

"Seems like you went for the biggest, bulkiest one under the tree," he pointed out sarcastically.

"The best one," I countered as I placed it in front of him, "I hope you'll love it."

Carefully, Loki removed the white tissue paper that was packed inside of the bag. He stared hard into it for a few moments before reaching into it, and pulling out a mass of fabric, unfolding it, and looking it over. It had a black backing. In the front triangular cuts of gold fabric sewn into the shape of a diamond, with dark green fabric surrounding it, all encircled by a black border. It was thick and heavy, great for the frigged nights that were sure to come.

"You got me a quilt?" he inquired.)

I shook my head, " _Made_. I _mad_ e you a quilt."

Loki looked over the king-sized quilt in astonishment, "How? _When_? I was with you here all this time, and not once have I ever seen you work on this quilt. Hel, I don't think I've ever seen you so much as pick up a sewing needle!"

"Let's just say I have a way of hiding things I don't want people to find."

"Well, it seems to suit me. I shall treasure it from here to the grave."

"Merry Christmas, now where's mine?"

Loki chuckled a bit before folding up the quilt and putting it back into the bag, carefully placing the tissue paper back over it like it'd been untouched.

"I wanted my gift to you to be a little more personal," Loki explained, "We've been through so much together already, and not a day goes by where I don't believe you're worthy of having it."

The air between us seemed to swirl as Loki put his hands out in front of him. It looked almost like he was creating a portal of some sort. If I would have spaced out for even a second, I would have missed it. From the space between his hands came a shimmer of gold, which rapidly took the shape of a helmet with large, curving horns.

I looked over the item in wonder as Loki held it in place with the tips of his fingers.

"This helmet was given to me many centuries ago," Loki explained, "Originally, it started of as little more than a crown; your standard crown that sits on every fairytale prince or princess's head, but this one is very special. The horns take shape and grow according to how much anger and hatred it's wearer feels. As I am no longer a prince of Asgard, like the rest of my armour, I no longer have a use for it, and I fear if it stays on my head much longer, I'll turn into one of those blasted reindeer Santa hooks up to his sleigh. You are more worthy of it than I am."

I continued to stare at the helmet in astonishment as Loki placed it in my hands, and that's when it hit me.

This thing was _solid gold_!

The helmet dropped onto my lap like a rock, and landed right on my groin. Thank god for not having balls, or else I'd probably be out of commission for the rest of the year.

"This is heavy," I commented, "Doesn't it hurt your neck when you wear it?"

"Every single minute," Loki responded, "but your neck gets used to it after a while."

I stared at the helmet for a few long minutes, not just admiring it's stunning beauty, but looking for something. It looked like it would be the right fit for me, but there was no way I was going to be able to squeeze my fat head through the chin piece, and I _really_ wanted to try this thing on.

"You're trying to figure out how to put it on, aren't you?" Loki piped up.

"I'm trying to figure out how to put it on," I confirmed, turning it in my hands, looking at it at every possible angle, "I doesn't do the knowing! How even?!"

"Here..."

Loki took the helmet back into his hands, and his finger fiddled with something between the top of it and the chin piece. Like his armor, the two pieces were held together with clasps that blended in almost seamlessly in with the rest of the garment. Once those were undone, the two pieces of metal separated, and Loki was able to place the top piece upon my head, and the chin piece around my neck. When the clasps locked back into place, the fit was almost so perfect, it was like it'd been made for me as it had been for Loki. It was even more comfortable than I imagined, though I think my neck had a few things to say about that.

"How do I look?" I asked.

Loki leaned back, the warmth intensifying in his eyes and his smile.

"Like a king."


	14. Chapter 13: Loki

'Like a king': Three words that hadn't held anywhere near as much meaning as when I had told them to Elijah. Was it the truth? Perhaps; a little stretched, maybe. Maybe it was my silver tongue that had forged them, but my heart wielded them just as a soldier wielded his sword. The words suited the person, and the person suited the words. Perhaps even a little more so than they suited me.

Not too surprisingly, Eli didn't take off the helmet for the rest of the morning; not when he first tried to fully lift his head and wound up having it drop heavily to the side, not when we crept back off to bed and rested his head against the pillows, and not even when we got up again later that morning and faced Ben and Morgan, whom were none too pleased to discover that we had gotten an early start on our Christmas gifts. Elijah and I didn't hear the end of it for the rest of the morning as we sat down beside the tree together and opened the rest of our presents.

In comparison to every gift I've ever received in my lifetime, Ben, Morgan, and Eli's gifts to me were surprisingly delightful; a real change of pace from being given an army of newly-trained, ready-to-battle Aesir warriors, feasts held in my honour, unfathomable amounts of golden armour and jewelry, or, Gods forbid, another horse.

From Ben, I received a new dagger. He seemed to have overheard me mention that the one I'd brought over with me from Asgard was dull, not to mention worn out. Not that it had been used very recently, but the centuries had worn away at the handle, and I don't think the blade would have been able to hold up if it were pressed against the grindstone again. This new one was lovely; straight as a bayonet with a handle woven in leather, and serpents coiled around the hilt.

From Morgan, I received braided leather jewelry, namely wristbands. They were different from my Asgardian leather garments and metal gauntlets, true, but they were aesthetically pleasing, nonetheless, with colors added to the leather that even the Aesir had yet to craft. If anything, they were more comfortable than any accessory my mother would have the servants clothe me in.

From Elijah, aside from the hand-made quilt, I received two more gifts. The first was a stack of books written by William Shakespeare. Although I had read a number of them countless times over the years, I was happy to find my three favorite stories amongst the five Eli had gotten for me:  _Othello_ ,  _A Midsummer Night's Dream_ , and  _Hamlet_. How he knew of my admiration for these stories, I'd never know; though, knowing him, it was sheer, dumb luck, as I knew these stories were immensely popular amongst mortals, as well.

His second gift to me had me a little more perplexed. It was something called a photo album; an item that I thought the Midgardians had done away with when their technology had advanced to the point where they could keep any pictures they treasured on their mobile gadgets. The album contained many pictures of me and Elijah. Of all the images contained within it - one Morgan must have captured the day we met as we ate lunch in the hotel room, a selfie Eli took in his car as I slept in the passenger seat beside him, one of me asleep on the blue sofa with Sif curled up on my chest at the apartment, the picture Morgan took on Eli's birthday when Eli had passed out on my lap, and  _many_ of the ones that were taken whenever Eli and I had kissed - one...  _one_  stood out to me the most. It was a picture of Eli and I in our bedroom, sleeping. Eli was wrapped in my arms as he snuggled against my chest; how we'd always fallen asleep on the nights he didn't have to work, and the days where I'd decide to join him in bed.

"I don't remember seeing that one in there before we wrapped it," Eli said as he turned to Morgan, "You snuck into our room while we were sleeping to take pictures?"

"I had to!" Morgan squeaked, "You guys looked so cute, all snuggled up like that."

"Babe..." Ben said sternly, "What have I told you about taking pictures of people in their private places? What if Eli and Loki had been doing the nasty? You really want a picture of that?"

While I did not comprehend the meaning behind Ben's words, Eli seemed to fully understand what he was saying. His body tensed as his face flushed bright red with embarrassment. It looked like he just wanted the universe to collapse in on itself.

"What is he saying?" I had the nerve to ask, "'Doing the nasty'?"

Eli cleared his throat and tried to compose himself enough to speak.

"Having sex..." was all he managed to croak out.

"Oh..." my face suddenly grew warm as I whipped around to face Ben and Morgan, " _Oh_! No, you don't understand! Elijah and I have never..."

"Dude, I know," Ben cut in, "Trust me, I know. I've lived in this house for eighteen years. I know how thin these walls are. If you guys would have done anything, I woulda known."

Ben's words didn't seem to bring neither me nor Elijah solace as we held our heads in our hands, trying to shake off the mounting humiliation.

"Just outta curiosity, why haven't you guys done it yet?" Morgan asked.

I explained that while there were no laws on Asgard about having sexual relations with a partner before marriage, it was more widely accepted for a couple to wait. I knew Thor had two to three women in his chambers per week before meeting that Jane Foster, and nobody batted an eye. On the other hand, I preferred to admire from a distance. The women of Asgard were like delicate flowers to be acclaimed and respected, not plucked or trampled upon; the only exemption being Valkyries, for they would kill a man for so little as breathing suspiciously in their direction. Eli was like a delicate orchid; lovely and difficult to grow. He'd told me stories of failed relationships and traumatic experiences that were best left unspoken, and it didn't take a genius to realize that he wasn't eager to take the intimacy to that level again just yet.

Just as well neither of us had forgotten about my current situation. We had a day to the first anniversary of my banishment; March 21st. On that day, I would be taken away from Midgard and given my final sentencing. Who knows if I'd ever see Elijah again after that. We were already really into it in terms of our relationship. I didn't want to make it any harder for him to have to say good-bye than it was already going to be when it came time.

"I'd rather wait." was all I could say.

"I'm out of practice." Eli piped up.

"I so call bullshit to that!" Ben accused as he pointed to him.

The blush on Eli's face intensified, but he said nothing more about the matter.

The rest of the morning was spent admiring our gifts and listening to music. Since we'd all grown rather annoyed with the Christmas music that'd been playing on the radio, Morgan took it upon herself to fill the living room with music from her IPad. I never thought I'd say this, but the sickening concoction of blaring instruments and screaming was more favorable to hearing about "rockin' around the Christmas tree" or "having a holly, jolly Christmas". For once since the holiday season started, it was peaceful.

The four of us sat around the living room, sharing stories and occasionally singing along to songs I'd become familiar with in my time on Midgard. I still couldn't say whether or not I had a favorite artist, though the musical group known as  _Imagine Dragons_  did have a number of songs that I was fond of, even the one known as "Thunder", even though it reminded me a lot of Thor.

Then came a song that I'd become all too familiar with, mostly because Eli played it every chance he could from his cell phone, and cranked it up on the radio whenever it came on in his car; the song known as "Despacito".

"Yes!" Elijah cheered from beside me.

Judging from the mischievously guilty smile that played on Morgan's lips, she'd selected it on purpose. The song did have a nice rhythm to it; an upbeat tune, a great song to listen to during the summer. It was almost worth dancing to.

Hmm... dancing.

When I thought about it, I'd never seen Eli dance to any of his songs, not counting the flailing, bouncing, head-banging throws of death he always did in the seat of his car or on the couch whenever one of his favorite songs played. Listening him sing was one thing, which could either sound pleasant, or like caribou with a bellyache, but could he dance?

There was only one way to find out.

I stood up from my seat and turned to Elijah as I extended my hand.

"May I have this dance?"

Eli seemed taken aback by my request, "Me?"

I rolled my eyes, "No, I was speaking to Sif... Yes, you!"

"But... I can't dance."

"It's easy. I'll show you."

Eli hesitated for a moment before slowly accepting my hand. Ben and Morgan were quick to clear the area of any furniture, which was probably for the best, because if things went south, I'd rather Eli land on the carpeted floor instead of on a glass-top coffee table.

"What do you say we try to tango?" I asked.

"I don't know how to tango..."

"Heimdall's eyeball, Elijah, just move your feet to the music, and let me take care of the rest."

With a nod from Elijah, I pulled him against me and began moving in rhythm to the song in small steps... or  _tried_  to, I must say. Dancing must have been foreign to Eli's body, as we started off our dance with him stepping on my toes a number of times. On the other hand, Frigga did everything in her power to  _ensure_  Thor and I both knew how to dance, stating that it was essential for us during balls and celebrations if any women came to fancy us. What a joke. Thor could snap his fingers and have every woman in the Nine Realms throw themselves at his feet. He didn't need any sort of skills to do that, except for maybe those to be used in his bedchambers.

Then there was me; the God of Mischief. In every dance lesson I'd ever had with Frigga, I had the grave misfortune of being partnered up with Lady Sif. Every screw-up or misstep was corrected with a kick to the shin or a punch...  _somewhere_. I practically had the skills beaten into me, and I seldom had the opportunity to use them. Very few women wanted to be known as the one who danced with Loki, the Lie Smith. Perhaps the only one I truly remembered was a woman named Sigyn. Lovely lady, but already engaged, and, truthfully, not all that worth killing her man for.

Eli, though... He was worth every misstep and toe trampled upon, and I gave him the same advice my mother had given me in each of our lessons: Don't let a mistake stop you. Keep moving.

As the beat picked up, so did our steps and, by some defiance of any basic logic, so did Elijah's ability to keep up. The missteps occurred less and less, as did him stepping on my toes. The timidness in his movements became stronger and more confident, until we turned, and everything took off from there; stepping, sliding, dipping, bowing, even leaping occasionally, our movements combined with the intertwining of limbs. It had to be one of the most enchanting dances I had ever had the joy of being a part of, no matter how clumsy the start. Mother would have been proud.

We ended our dance with one final bow, and the dying note of "Despacito" was replaced with the duet, Ben and Morgan, applauding our performance.

"Damn, Erai!" Ben said, "I didn't know you could dance!"

"I can't," Eli panted, his short stamina clearly strained by what'd just occurred, "I didn't know what I was doing most of the time. I probably looked like an ox having a stroke."

"No, you were really great!" Morgan beamed, " _And_  I got it all on camera!"

"Indeed," I chimed in, "You really were fantastic, Elijah."

"Dance some more. Please?"

"It better be a slow dance," Eli stated, "Because I think if we do the tango again, someone's gonna have to sweep my ass up off of the floor."

"Okay."

A slower song was put on, another one of Elijah's favorites, apparently, as he held the same reaction as he had to "Despacito". This one, however, was one I was not familiar with. It had never played on any of the radio stations we listened to, nor had I ever heard Eli play it on his own time, but it was something the two of us could slow dance to, wrapped in each other's arms as we swayed rhythmically from foot to foot. As we danced, I was acutely aware that Ben and Morgan had joined us, swaying in their own sort of dance in the room surrounding us.

"It's funny," Eli suddenly piped up, "I haven't danced with anybody since my senior prom."

"Yeah?" I inquired, "And what was it like?"

"Surprising. Nobody had ever asked me to dance before, and whenever I'd ask anyone else, I'd always get shot down."

"Those people should be locked away in Asgard's prisons for doing such a thing. You were wonderful."

Eli let out a quiet, yet appreciative laugh, "Thank you."

"Now let me ask you this: Who was better, me or him?"

"You, definitely."

"Are you saying that as to not hurt my feelings?"

"No, but at least you know where to hold me. This guy's hands gradually gravitated from my waist to my butt."

"Then, if our paths should cross, I shall swiftly remove his hands from his wrists."

A chuckle escaped Eli's throat, "You're silly."

"It's silly that you think I'm joking."

"Don't worry about him," Eli said, looking up at me, "That was three years ago. We haven't spoken since then. Besides, I'm a lot happier here with you than I'd probably ever be with someone like him."

I think we both felt a tightness pull at our chests at those words. Already December, already nearing the New Year, and the clock just wouldn't stop ticking. If I had a choice, I would forget Asgard, forget being a god, forget everything to stay here. Even if it meant losing all of my strength and magic, even if it meant never seeing Thor, Odin, or Frigga again, even if it meant having to become a full-blown mortal, or even a Jotun, I'd take it to stay. But I'd had a choice, once. I chosen exile over immediate return. I'd chosen a chance at power over my own family. I'd chosen  _wrong_.

I held Eli closer to my chest.

"No matter what happens," I whispered to him, "I will always be with you. And I swear to you, when the time comes, I will return."

"You promise?"

I looked down at Eli just in time to catch a glimpse of a tear straying down his cheek, and I gently brushed it away with my thumb.

"I promise."

* * *

Eli had blindsided me by bringing me along to a friend of the family's house for New Year's rather than going to his parents. Well, we  _did_  go to his parent's, and then we immediately hopped into his mother's clunky-looking vehicle and were carried off to another house owned by a couple I hadn't been introduced to before; Skip and Ronda. From what I could gather from my first five minutes of interacting with them, Skip was a lot like a twig-like hybrid of Ben and Lou; older and gruff looking, but a complete jester at heart. Ronda was a whole new breed of her own. Stoic and cold, she was friendly enough to hold lengthy conversations with, but the line that her mouth was usually flattened into and the displeased look in her eyes always made me wonder if I had said something to offend her.

Seeing them interact with Elijah and his family, on the other hand, was like night and day. Skip would want to get into in-depth, serious conversations about what was going in their lives, still teasing and cracking jokes here and there, but with his flamboyancy reigned in to where it was like I was looking at a different person. Ronda seemed to love Eli like he was her own son, hugging and kissing him on the cheeks like my mother used to do to me and Thor when we were children; like she  _still did_  every now and again. While her gaze and tone were stone cold towards me, she laughed and gossiped with Eli over countless topics within a span of ten minutes.

One such conversation I couldn't help but overhear as we sat around the dining table eating was that Skip and Lou had apparently been making bets as to whether or not Eli and I would kiss on New Year's or not. Apparently, Skip was betting that it would be a kiss so deep and passionate that it would outdo every other couple that kissed at the stroke of twelve. Lou, still not having forgotten my little stunt on Eli's birthday, figured I wouldn't have it in me to kiss his youngest child in front of him. Meanwhile, Eli and I were doing some meddling of our own, debating on who we should allow to win the bet. On the one hand, Lou's ego was pretty bruised when I proved him wrong about not thinking that I was a god. Another blow like that with one of his children would probably land me outside of his good graces for the rest of time. On the other hand, though, I wanted to show whoever I had to that I wasn't afraid or ashamed of being with Elijah. With him loving me, I no longer needed anybody's approval. He meant the world to me, and that was that.

The dishes that were at this gathering were small and simple. Chris and Lou had brought a vegetable platter and a fruit salad, Eli and I had brought his delectable beast patties, as well as an apple pie, and Skip and Ronda had laid out a cold cut platter, potato salad, chips and dip, and an intriguing dessert called 'monkey bread', which looked like neither monkey nor bread, and was not bread made from monkey, nor a monkey made from bread. All I did know about it was that it was much too sweet for my palette, and that Elijah was delighted to have it, eating a fair portion of the dish himself within an hour.

After a few plates of food had been consumed, Skip pulled out a deck of cards.

"So, Loki," he piped up as he shuffled the deck, "Ever played Tunk before?"

I shook my head, "Can't say I've ever heard of it."

"It's pretty easy to figure out," Eli explained, "Every player gets three cards and three quarters, and the rest of the deck is put in the middle along with a cup or a dish. Each card is worth a certain number of points; kings, queens, jacks, and tens are all worth ten, the aces are worth eleven, and the numbered cards are worth the same amount of points as their numbers. When it's your turn, you can either draw a new card from the deck, or pick up the card the person before you threw down. Whichever you choose to do, you have to throw down a card from your hand, preferably the one that helps you out the least. The goal is to get three cards of the same suit with as many points as you can; the highest score being thirty one. If you feel like you have a higher score than someone else in the game, you knock on the table once, which is a tunk. After someone tunks everyone gets one more turn as a last-ditch effort to beat the tunker's score. The person with the lowest score has to toss one of their quarters into the pot. If a person loses all of their quarters, then they're on their honor. If the person on their honor loses again, then they're out."

"Simple enough," I commented, "And what happens if someone gets thirty one points?"

"Then that person wins that round, and everyone else at the table has to throw in a quarter. Anyone that's on their honor is out. This doesn't apply if you draw thirty one after somebody tunks. It just means you're safe from being eliminated The game keeps going until there is only one winner. If two people tie on the last round, then the quarters that are in the pot stay there, all players are back in, everyone gets three more quarters, and a new game begins for the double jackpot."

In all honesty, the game, when Elijah explained it, didn't sound easy at all, but I would try, and being the God of Mischief that I was, I refused to lose.

Eli lent me three of his quarters as Skip dealt the cards. Once every one was given three, he took a card from the deck and placed it face up next to it as he set it down; a five of clubs.

"Ooh!" Skip breathed, "That's too big for you, Lou."

"You're right," Lou retorted sarcastically, drawing a card from the top of the deck, and laying down a deuce, "It is."

"What the hell is this?!" Chris exclaimed, examining the cards in her hand, "You didn't give me shit!"

"Me either," Eli added, "I got nothin' but crap."

"Good!" Lou said, "That means I can take your guy's quarters."

"Not on your life, Papa..."

"No," I commented, "Because I'm going to get them all first."

Out of the corner of my eye, I could just barely see Ronda rolling her eyes. I wasn't completely positive on my speculations, but I was getting the distinct impression that she didn't like me. For what reason, I didn't know. I'd done well to ensure that I kept my meddling and mischievousness to a minimum, and I still received the look of pure vexation whenever I so much as opened my mouth to speak. Perhaps Lou had told her about my little stunt on Elijah's birthday, and that had made her form a sour opinion about me. Or, perhaps, as it was in a lot of cases, she just didn't like me.

I took the time to pick up my cards and look at my hand; a three of hearts, a seven of diamonds, and a king of spades. I'd seem I wasn't off to a very good start, myself.

Chris went after Lou, then Ronda. As she picked up a card, I heard her sigh irritably before taking one from her hand and holding it up to me, "You wan't it?"

All I could see was the delicate blue patterning on the back of the card.

"Put it down, and we'll find out," I replied.

Ronda looked at me quizzically before setting the card down on the table, revealing a queen of diamonds.

"I'll take that," I said as I snatched up the card and threw down my three.

Before I could so much as glance in Eli's direction, I heard him knock against the table. Everyone let out a collective groan. Either he tunked because he had a really good hand, and had hid it well, or he was just winging it and hoped his score would be higher than someone else's, and with the way I knew Eli could be at times, it could have easily been the latter. My curiosity and eagerness to see what he had ate away at me rapidly as everyone went around and drew one last card. I only had a meager seventeen points, and with every other person saying something like, "Well, that helped me a lot!" or, "Boy, I really needed that!", I had a feeling I wasn't going to make this round.

I panicked.

I didn't even look at the card I drew from the stack. I just picked it up and threw down my hand, "Thirty one!"

All eyes were on my cards; a queen of diamonds, a king of diamonds, and an ace of diamonds.

"Beginner's luck!" Skip called over to me before looking over to Eli, "Wha'cha got, tunker?"

"An ace of diamonds..."

I froze as the words hit me, and I looked over to see him holding up said ace. I felt a tap on my shoulder opposite of me and and saw Ronda's face had twisted into a scowl as she held up a king of diamonds.

"You rotten little cheater!" Eli yelled playfully, throwing his cards in my face, followed by Ronda.

"How did you do that?!" Skip inquired, "There's no way that should have been possible... unless I grabbed one of my fucked up decks by mistake."

"Nah," Eli snorted, "Loki's just got a few tricks up his sleeve."

Ronda rolled her eyes again, "Screw this! We're starting this game over."

We played a few more games,  _without_ me cheating, before Eli decided to leave and stepped out onto the porch to smoke. I could sense that there was something on his mind that he wasn't exactly willing to speak. Not wanting to be left to be subjected to Ronda's hateful glares for another lengthy game, I decided to step out too. Eli had settled himself on the couch out there, and I could tell from the blank look in his eyes that he'd already lost himself in thought.

"Everything all right?" I asked as I settled myself beside him.

"Yeah," he replied, snapping himself from his thoughts, "I just...  _really_ needed a smoke."

"It's more than that, isn't it? I've been with you long enough to tell when something's bothering you. What is it?"

Elijah dropped his gaze to the floor and took another drag from his cigar, filling the air between us with its vanilla scent and a pinch of unease.

"I just can't believe it's already New Year's," he finally piped up, "It seems like just last month I met you at Shuto Con."

The meaning behind his words made my stomach sink like a stone. Nine months had already passed since that fateful day, yet it felt like it had been no more than two or three. Living with him, Ben, and Morgan had made life so much easier, not to mention more enjoyable. The days just seemed to pass us by one right after the other, but now? Now it only meant one thing: time was ticking, and we didn't have very much of it left.

"Hey," I said resting a hand on his shoulder, "We still have time."

"Three months..." Eli muttered out, "It's not a lot of time."

"True, but it's going to be the New Year in a couple of hours. Let's try to make it the best one we've ever had."

Finally, Eli lifted his gaze. Tears were filling his eyes like overflowing basins. He wrapped his arms around me as I pulled him to my chest.

"I don't want you to go," he muttered out against the fabric of my shirt.

"I know," I said softly, "But it won't be forever. I promise."

"How do you know? What if Odin decides to be a dick, like keep you locked away in a prison cell forever, or  _worse_?

A light chuckle escaped my throat as I ran my fingers through Eli's short, downy, blond hair, observing the dark brown roots that were already peeking through. He'd bleached it not that long ago, and although the process was lengthy, the end result was nothing short of beautiful.

"I can already tell you none of that is going to happen," I replied, "Frigga would never allow that. Believe me, she's probably the reason my father has survived as long as he has."

Eli let out a small laugh as he tried to wipe his eyes, "You think?"

I smiled and nodded, "I know, so, please, don't cry. Everything will be all right in the end. And if not... well, I haven't been bested by the walls of a sell yet."

We sat there until Elijah had finished his Cheyenne. Before we could stand up and make our way back inside for another game of Tunk, however, Ronda came out onto the porch, a cigarette pinched between two fingers.

"You," she said, pointing a long, slender finger at me, "I'd like to speak to you out here for a second."

Eli raised his brows as he stood up. The redness in his face and eyes had calmed down some, which I saw as a good thing. I think Ronda would have skinned me alive if she so much as assumed I'd upset him. Hel, she was probably about to skin me now for cheating.

Ronda crossed her arms as Elijah stepped out of the room and leaned her shoulder against a nearby wall. The lines in her face were deep with displeasure, and her brunette hair seemed to be more unkempt than when I had stepped out of the dining room. Her lips were still pressed in the same flat line as it'd been roughly all evening; a look that'd make you think I had insulted her ancestors. Decapitated a family memorial, or something.

"Listen," I started, "If I've said something, or done something to disrespect you or your family, I can assure you that I didn't intend-"

Ronda lifted her hand, silencing me, "Cheating at Tunk isn't uncommon in this group. Trust me."

"Alright, then... What is this about?"

Ronda straightened herself and sat down in a chair across from me.

"Lou's told me quite a bit about you."

"Oh, yeah?" I inquired, "And how much is 'quite a bit', exactly?"

"Enough that I'm not even going to bother trying to figure it all out, but I do know this: Tina-"

I tried as hard as I possibly could to keep from having my face twist with annoyance at hearing that name. This woman was a friend of Eli's. Hel, she could have passed for his aunt, or some other relative, with how much she cared for him. Hearing her do something as blatantly disrespectful as...  _dead-naming_  him? I would be lying if I said it didn't disgust me.

" _Eli..._ " I corrected.

Ronda closed her eyes and sighed. She was most likely ready to snap my neck.

"...  _Eli_  is over the moon about you. I haven't seen her-"

" _Him_..."

"... _Him_  this happy in a long time. Probably ever, so I just wanted to make something clear to you, right now. On Lou's behalf, of course."

I rolled my eyes, "Of course..."

Ronda leaned forward more in her seat and the seriousness in her features hardened. Her dark brown eyes seemed to darken into a soulless shade of black, and the threat in her voice was thick.

"If I hear you hurt him, in any sort of way, I'm gonna have to kill you. Is that understood?"

A chill shot down my spine as I nodded, "Yes, ma'am," I extended my hand to her, "Pardon us."

With a slight nod, and the first smile I'd seen her crack towards me all evening, she returned the gesture and we shook on it, forming a fragile truce between us. I was relieved. Hopefully, this meant I could go the rest of the night without having to squirm under her hateful, critical gaze; walking on eggshells to keep from having my neck snapped.

As Ronda was finishing her cigarette, Eli's head appeared from within the dining room.

"Come on, you guys!" he shouted, "The countdown is about to start!"

I don't think I had every gotten up from a sofa so fast in my life. Before I could pass her on the way inside, however, Ronda snagged me by my arm and leaned in towards me.

"Remember what I told you..."

I immediately knew the meaning behind her words.

_Sorry, Lou. It looks like this will be another quarrel with me you're going to lose._

"I will ensure his happiness," I replied, "I'll make sure of that."

"One minute!" Eli's voice rang out from inside.

"You better," Ronda warned before swatting my shoulders, "Now get outta here. Go get him."

I bounded out of the porch and into the living room, where Eli was already waiting, along with Chris, Lou, and Skippy, watching the clock countdown live at Times Square on the television. I wrapped my arm around Elijah's waist as I observed the bustling crowd of onlookers that were clothed in their warmest attire. I was less focused on the clock than I was on everything else. Men, women, and children were smiling and waving at the camera, celebrities stood on stages in the background of the announcers, microphones in hand. Lights were shining and bells were ringing, and all the while, I stared at the shadow surrounding it; the aftermath of the chaos I unleashed not long ago. And even after all that, one of the city's most prominent locations appeared to be virtually untouched by the Chitauri. It was moving. Even though some parts of New York were still completely damaged and under reconstruction, the Midgardians were still able to find it in themselves to come together there to welcome a brand new year.

Somewhere outside of my thoughts, I felt Eli wrap his arm around my waist and jostle me from my thoughts with a gentle squeeze. As I gazed down at him, I could tell he knew what I was thinking.

"They'll fix it," he said as a smile spread across his features, "There were probably potholes that needed to be filled anyway."

I forced out a light chuckle as I managed to tear my gaze away from the leftover carnage back towards the countdown clock. Thirty seconds left.

"Have we decided who's winning yet?" Eli piped up.

"Yes, I have."

"Booze or buss?"

"Buss."

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see his smile grow, "Alrighty, then."

"Ten!" everyone's voice joined together as one as the numbers on the clock grew to large proportions in vibrant colors, spinning and exploding with the passing of each number, "Nine! Eight! Seven! Six! Five! Four! Three! Two! One!  _Happy New Year!_ "

As the cork was popped off the champagne bottle and everyone was focused on giving everyone hugs and New Year's Day wishes, I bent down as Elijah perched himself on the tips of his toes. Within seconds the room fell silent as he threw his arms around my shoulders as I wrapped mine around his waist, and our lips locked in a deep, passionate kiss. I could feel their eyes burning into us, as well as Chris snapping a picture with her phone.

"Twenty bucks. Pay up, Lou!" Skippy said, turning towards Elijah's dad.

I don't think either Eli nor I were paying any mind to everyone else. We had engrossed ourselves in the moment for several long seconds before we pulled away and gazed deeply into each other's eyes.

"Happy New Year, Loki." Eli said, taking my hands into his.

A warm smile solidified itself onto my features, "Happy New Year, Elijah."

We indulged in the moment for a few seconds more, before we heard Lou call out to us.

"Get a room, you two!"


	15. Chapter 14: Eli

The joy that came with the holiday season inevitably died with the passing of New Years, and was replaced with a strong loathing for the ice, snow, and cold. Throughout January alone, I'd had to call into work twice because the roads were too icy or drifted in to pass through without getting stuck or thrown into a ditch, even in the Taurus. Aaron wasn't all too happy about this, as I was one of the more reliable people on third shift, but my job wasn't worth dying in a snowstorm over, and everyone at Lakehouse Foods knew it.

Temperatures had dropped into the negatives, making life just a little bit more miserable for everyone. Loki's magic levels were so low at this point that he was almost always in his Jotun form, even with the furnace going. Even when we cuddled, any part of him that wasn't touching me was dark blue and riddled with those peculiar markings. He became extremely self-conscious, even with Ben and Morgan knowing what he looked like under the enchantment. He was inconsolable. Some days he just couldn't take it, and would hide up in the bedroom huddled under the covers as he prayed for warmer weather.

On a particularly cold afternoon while the snow was blowing, I had gained enough ambition to bundle up and go check the mail; and by "bundle up", I mean I not only wore my over-sized, sleeping bag-looking winter coat, but insulated pants, my boots, gloves, a hat, and a scarf. All just to check the goddamn mail, because God knows nobody else had been wanting to do it all week. For sanity's sake, I hoped there was a mountain building up in that little tin box to make my trip worth while.

Just as it'd been all week, it was a blizzard out, and the change from the dim light of the house inside to a complete white-out was blinding. Pulling my scarf up over my nose, I trudged down the drive way, stopping a good ways before the road to check for cars before I continued on. The last thing I wanted was to be plowed over by a car or truck that wasn't able to see me in this terrible weather. I hurried across the road as fast as my poofy-panted legs could carry me and pulled open the door to the mailbox forcefully, dislodging the ice and snow that had built up around it.

Nothing.

I nearly tore the thing out of the ground and screamed.

As I turned around, I paused when I noticed a shape standing in the middle of my driveway. At first I thought maybe it had been Ben, or possibly even Loki who'd gotten the same idea as me and wanted to check the mail, but as I squinted against the large, fluffy flakes of falling snow, I realized that the build of this person didn't match those of any of my room mates. This person appeared to me much thinner than even Loki, even under the fur cloak they appeared to be wearing, and even beneath the layers of clothes and the snow assaulting my eyes, I could tell whoever was standing there was most definately a woman.

"Can I help you?" I called out.

Whoever this person was, they didn't answer. I warily began making my way towards them. Whoever they were, if they were from Nashville, they couldn't have been all that dangerous. Worse come to worse, it was a meth-head that had been wandering aimlessly in the streets and just so happened to wind up in my driveway. I knew that wasn't likely. Heck, it was astronomical with how far out in the country we lived, but stranger things have happened.

I managed to make it to the foot of the driveway before I stopped to observe this person. We were probably only standing about twenty feet away from each other now, and through the snow, I could make out a red scarf and long locks of curly blonde hair sitting beneath the cloaks hood. A couple of steps closter revealed fair, milky white skin that was lined with age and soft blue eyes. Something in me told me that this woman had to be from Asgard, but her identity illuded me.

"Who are you?" I asked.

The voice that came from underneath the hood was soft and sweet, "I thought Loki might've told you."

I froze as she lifted her head to better meet my gaze, and it was like the pieces just fell into place.

"Are you... are you Frigga?" I asked

The woman smiled and nodded in response, "I am."

In that moment I became overwhelmed with questions. Why was she here? Why turn up now, of all times? Was she here to try to take Loki away like Thor had tried to do some few months back? Was Thor with her? It didn't look like it, but maybe he was inside trying to reason with Loki again. How did she even find this place?

I tried to collect my thoughts and form a coherent sentence, "Loki has told me about you..."

And that was when the 'Oh, fuck!' feeling that had first hit me when Loki and I first met resurfaced. I was speaking to  _the queen of Asgard_. Thor and Loki's  _mother_. Odin's  _wife_. She was  _here_ , and from the looks of things, she wanted to talk to  _me_!

"Uhh, please to make your aquaintence!" I said quickly, bowing at the waist.

Frigga laughed, "No need to be so formal. Nobody could have possibly seen me clearly in this weather."

I straightened up, a blush managing to warm my freezing cheeks. I think the only Asgardian I hadn't turned into a bumbling idiot in front of when I'd first met them was Thor, and at the time I was just royally pissed off that he'd tried to force Loki into going back with him when his banishment wasn't even up, and  _especially_  when Loki wasn't willing to go back. And with how much Loki seemed to detest him whenever he was brought up in conversation, he had easily wound up on my list of people whom I wasn't all too eager to trust.

Frigga, on the other hand, was another story. Loki hadn't said much of anything that was all that bad about Frigga. She was probably the only person from Asgard that he didn't have some sort of grudge against, and even thought we'd only exchanged a few words, I was able to see that everything Loki had said about her was true. She seemed like a kind and gentle soul, and seemed to hold a lot of patience and understanding; the type of mother I'm sure Loki really needed, growing up.

All the same, that still didn't explain what she was doing in my driveway.

"If I may ask, you're Majesty," I spoke up, "Why are you here?"

Frigga smiled as she took a step forward, "Who wouldn't want to meet the mortal who lifted Mjolnir? And what mother wouldn't want to meet the one courting her son?"

My blush intensified as I internally screamed. When she said it, it made it sound like Loki and I were bracing ourselves for marriage. While I might have not have been apposed to the idea, I was becoming more and more painfully aware of our situation every day that passed. In three months time, Loki would have to go back to Asgard for his final sentencing. We were already deeper into our relationship than we ever wanted to be, and there was no telling if I would ever see him again. Loki always tried to tell me that it was something we could worry about when the time came, but I always worried about it.

"Fair enough," I managed to choke out, "Elijah Ray Boyer, milady."

I followed Frigga as she started to approach the house.

"If I may ask, again," I piped up, "What brings the queen of Asgard to my home on such a frigid, Michigan day?"

Frigga slowly turned to me, her expressions sullen a bit.

"I merely wished to ask how my son has been doing," she stated, "I hope he hasn't been too much trouble for you."

"Not really," I responded, "he did seem a bit full of himself when we first met, but after a while I found out he was just upset and a little confused. Sure, he tried to take over New York, but he was lost, and I honestly don't think he would have made it as far as he has if I didn't do anything."

I told Frigga about our adventures in Grand Rapids, and about our move down here. I told her about Thor's brief visit, and about our antics during the holidays. My stories seemed to delight her as we sat on the porch to escape the freezing cold.

"It sounds like he's really changed," she commented, "I do hope that will come to benefit him in the future."

I felt my chest tighten a bit, "You mean, like, with his trial?"

"Exactly. After his past actions on Earth, everyone on Asgard fears Loki's ambition. They worry what he might try to do next, should he be free to roam Asgard as before, and think it'd be for the best if he were to be imprisoned indefinitely, if not executed. As you can very well imagine, as his mother, I don't wish to see that happen."

That made two of us. It would be hard enough having to watch him leave, not knowing what his fate would be. To come all this way, changing for the better, establishing a life among my room mates and me, only to be executed, imprisoned or never allowed to return to Earth for one reason or another; I'd be crushed.

"Would you like to talk to him?" I asked, causing Frigga to look up from her lap, "I know he misses you, and I think it would be good for him to be able to spend some time with you before you go."

Frigga smiled sadly, "Elijah, I will tell you that I would love more than anything to see Loki. He's my son, and I love him as if he were my own... but I can't."

"Oh?"

"It's bad enough that he saw Thor, and that Thor defied Odin by trying to bring him back. Technically speaking, I'm committing treason, just by being here. Seeing me... I don't think it would benefit him any to see me. He needs to be spending these last few months appreciating what's before him now, instead of grasping for something from the past. He knows that I'm alive and that I'm waiting for him, and until the time comes for him to return to Asgard, that's all he really needs to know."

My heart ached. Not just for Loki, it seemed, but for Frigga, too. It seemed like even she didn't know what Loki's fate would wind up being. It probably torment her to think that she also might never see him again. Did she even have a say in what sort of punishment he received, or was it all up to Odin? And things looked grim before. Now I would most likely have to come to terms with the rapidly increasing possibility that, come the end of March, I would never see Loki again.

"Not all is lost, though," Frigga piped up, likely sensing the mounting dread that was filling me, "I've been receiving frequent reports from Heimdall, and he's seen a prominent change in Loki ever since he met you."

Loki had talked about Heimdall before. He'd mentioned how he'd frozen him solid at the Bifrost, and that he regretted it. Not solely because he was part of the reason why his attack on Jotunheim hadn't gone according to plan, but also because he still saw him as a friend, and that he had driven that friend into attacking him, possibly even into wanting to legitimately kill him for his crimes. Even I couldn't imagine doing something so bad that Ben and Morgan would want to lop my head off. Of course, I'm pretty sure they'd do it, if they really had to.

To hear that Heimdall was watching, and was happy to see the change in Loki gave me hope.

"So you think Loki still has a chance?" I asked.

Frigga smiled and nodded, "I know Odin will do what he feels is best for him and for Asgard. Loki might be a criminal, but he loves him no less."

I had to resist the urge to scoff at her statement. Sure, Odin might love Loki as his own son... when he behaved, but what about when he was "the God of Mischief"? It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that the God of Mischief was bound to make mischief, at some point. Yet it seemed whenever Loki caused even the slightest amount of trouble around Asgard, he was punished for it. I mean, if they didn't want him to live up to his title, why give it to him in the first place? Was it simply because he was a frost giant, or had Odin set him up to fail from the moment he brought him back from Jotunheim?

I could only force out a nod in agreement, "I sure hope so. I hope he can also see how much he has changed, and how hard he's trying to better himself."

Frigga rested a hand on my shoulder, "You've been a powerful influence over Loki. Enjoy the rest of your time together to the fullest."

"Believe me," I responded, "I intend to."

Frigga stood up from her seat and strode over to the door.

"I must be leaving, now," she said, "Odin's probably wondering where I've gone off to."

I followed her back out into the frozen tundra of our front lawn. By now, the footprints we had left in the snow earlier had been filled in, leaving just a faint imprint where they once were. Rather than making her way to the end of the driveway, however, she cut across the property in the opposite direction, making her way out into the field outback. The snow was easily piled up past her ankles, and the cloak along with the long, silver gown she'd been wearing drug in it.

"I would stand back a ways," she advised, "We wouldn't want you to go back with me by accident."

I chuckled, "Yeah, try explaining  _that one_ to Odin."

Frigga grinned, "I do hope we have a chance to meet again someday, Elijah."

"Totally. Maybe you can pay us a visit when the weather isn't so... Michigander-ish."

With a nod, Frigga turned her head up to the sky, "Whenever you're ready, Heimdall."

I only had a couple of seconds to register what happened. A beam of light dropped down from the clouds, reflecting a multitude of brightly colored blues, yellows, greens, and pinks. I guess Loki wasn't shitting me when he said it was like a rainbow bridge. In the blink of an eye, Frigga was gone, and the light was replaced with a circular pattern with intricate details spiraling and weaving throughout it.

I stood there for what had to be a solid minute, just staring up at the sky, squinting against its blinding whiteness and the large snowflakes that were still falling heavily, before I turned back towards the house. Frigga and I had been talking for quite a bit, and her exit wasn't exactly subtle. I half-expected Loki to come bursting out of the house, either having overheard us and wanting to see her, or rushing out to catch her before she left, but no. It was just me. Maybe he  _had_  overheard her, and was respecting her wishes of him not seeing her, or maybe he couldn't bring himself to see her just yet. Maybe he just wasn't aware that she was here at all.

Or he was sleeping. That was also a definite possibility.

* * *

Loki wrinkled his nose as he looked around the store, "What is all of this?"

As far as the eye could see, hearts in varying shades of red and pink lined the aisles, enormous bags of candy stuffed the shelves, and endless varieties of boxes full of Valentine's Day cards were put on displays here and there. My stomach twisted as if I'd stuffed myself with sugar at the thought of the amount of candy and chocolate that surrounded us, and the chatter of passing shoppers talking about Valentine's Day parties reverted me back to my days as a four-year-old; stomping my foot and whining about just how much I didn't want to be here right now.

Valentine's Day. The only holiday I absolutely hated. Memories flashed through my head of roses and carnations and candies with notes from secret admirers; roses, carnations, and candies that had never been for me. A familiar emptiness began to fill me, ordinarily only filled by filling my stomach with as much chocolate as I could, resulting in about five extra pounds added to my waistline.

"Valentine's Day is tomorrow," I explained, "Everybody's stocking up."

"Valentine's Day?" Loki echoed in bewilderment

"Basically a holiday for lovers to gush over each other and shower each other with presents, and to make single people feel even more like shit than they did before."

Loki had wandered over to the nearest rack of chocolate and was turning over a heart-shaped box plastered with gaudy flowers on it in his hands. He took one look at the promising yellow sale's tag beneath it, and immediately threw it back on the shelf.

"I realize chocolate is a rarity," he said, "but nearly ten bucks for such a small box? What are they made of? Gold?"

I shrugged, "That how holidays work. They scam people into buying outrageous amounts of sweets and cards for an even more outrageous price tag, when you can buy the same stuff much cheaper any other day of the year." I paused, "Wait... what do you mean, 'rarity'?"

Loki looked at me like it was the most obvious thing in the world, "There's no such thing as chocolate on Asgard. It's something that can only be found on Midgard."

I shook my head in disbelief, "You mean you've never experienced the joys of a chocolate fountain?"

A roar of laughter erupted from Loki's throat. He was laughing so hard he keeled over, bending at the waist until I though his head would hit his knees. Gradually his laughs turned into wheezes. Other people, including myself, looked on in confusion.

"That's a good one, Elijah!" he finally barked out, "Chocolate fountain... Oh, if only such a thing existed!"

The nearest on-looker and I looked at each other in bewilderment for a split second before I turned to Loki, "You've never heard of a chocolate fountain?"

Loki struggled to regain his composure, "Nothing but the stuff of myths and legends, I'm afraid, much like unicorns."

I bit my lip, struggling to keep myself from collapsing in laughter. Here was a Norse god, the infamous Trickster God, himself, and he didn't believe chocolate fountains existed. Not long ago, Loki had thought the same thing about free samples in the grocery store, until he found a stand handing out free samples of a new lunch meat they now sold at the Deli counter. He had a look on his face that made me think he had received a small fortune.

"Wait here," I told him. I wandered down the aisles until I found a store's associate; a short, curvy girl with brunette hair, "Excuse me! Do you guys have a chocolate fountain?"

The store's associate looked at me with a pleasant, yet forced smile, "Of course, you'll find them in Aisle-"

"No, do you have a full, currently in use chocolate fountain?"

"Um, well we have one in our break room. Why do you ask?"

"I have a friend with me who has never seen a chocolate fountain. He  _needs_  to experience this."

The associate shot me a look of disbelief, before placing her hands on her hips, "Where's this guy at?"

I gestured for her to follow, and led her back to the Valentine's displays. Loki was still waiting near where I had left him, turning over a box of Avenger's themed Valentine's Day cards in his hands.

"Eli you've gotta read some of the absurd phrases they have on these here cards," he stated, "For Metal Man's they have 'You've melted my iron heart' printed on them. And the Soldier's-"

"That's him," I told the store's associate.

The girl stared at Loki challengingly as she beckoned to him with her finger. He looked from her to me, and I urged him along, nearly pushing him as she guided us off of the store floor, and toward the back. We eventually stopped in a fairly ordinary looking break room; white walls, a fridge, a microwave, a long brown table with some chairs around it. In the center of the table sat a perfectly-flowing chocolate fountain surrounded by a wide variety of fruits and cookies.

I looked up at Loki, anticipating his reaction. He seemed to look at it in bewilderment, as if his eyes couldn't comprehend what they were seeing. I brushed past him, skewered a strawberry with a wooden stick, and held it under the running chocolate. I pulled it out after a moment, turned, and handed it to Loki.

I could see his eyes moving from me, to the chocolate fountain, to the chocolate covered strawberry before he warily took it from my hand. He'd only taken a small bite out of it before his eyes lit up in disbelief. He rushed over to the fountain, examining it, repeating the process of pulling the strawberry in and out of the melted chocolate until I thought there'd be no strawberry left for him to dunk. He did the same thing with a banana, an apple slice, a cookie, and finally, as I had been anticipating, his fingers. In a lot of ways, it was like he was seeing a unicorn.

Loki looked over to me, mouth agape as I stared back at him and laughed, "Midgard's got some pretty cool shit, doesn't it?"

He only nodded briefly before he proceeded to lick the chocolate ungracefully from his fingers.

"Okay, well, you enjoy that," I said, turning towards the door, "I'm gonna go get groceries."

"W-wait!" The store's associate called after me, "What do I do about him?"

I snickered, "He's got a chocolate fountain. He'll be preoccupied for a while."


	16. Chapter 15: Loki

Elijah and I stood side by side as we stared at the Lansing Center. His hand was grasped gently in mine as we stood across the street, reminiscing about the events that had transpired in front of those shiny glass doors nearly a year ago.

Where did the time go? Wasn't it just a few short months ago that Elijah was leading me along, helping me find the registration desk I didn't need to find? Wasn't it just last week we'd moved from the apartment in Grand Rapids to our little house in Nashville with Ben and Morgan? Wasn't it just the other day that Eli had lifted Mjolnir and had stood up to my great oaf of a brother? Wasn't it just yesterday that Elijah and I became more than just friends?

I wasn't sure any more. The time that had already passed us by no longer held any meaning to me. What mattered now was the time that I had left, because tomorrow, in mere hours, I would have to leave Midgard and return to Asgard. I knew Eli knew that too. We were both painfully aware, had been painfully aware for quite some time, that time was running out. I didn't want to leave. I wanted to stay. I didn't care if that meant being stripped of all of my powers and magic, and left as a mere mortal. Hel, I didn't care if it left me as a grotesque frost giant. If it meant I could stay, I would take any unfavorable conditions the Allfather threw at me.

The weather in Lansing suited the mood. The sky was grey and overcast. It was raining, but not too terribly hard, for which I was thankful for, because Elijah had yet to get over his fear of driving in heavy rain. It was cold, but not cold enough to bring forth my Jotun form, and I was glad for that because the winter had made grow tired of being cooped up inside.

"Remember when I got into that argument with that security guard?" I asked, trying to lighting the mood.

Eli chuckled slightly, "Remember when you passed out just as we were about to meet up with Ben and Morgan?"

I let out a slight chuckle as well. I remembered all too well about that day, and the days that had followed.

"Where did the time go?" Elijah asked, leaning against me, and I pulled him close.

"I don't know," I answered.

What was I to do? We only had one day left together before we'd be ripped apart, possibly forever. I hoped and prayed it wouldn't be so. I hoped that Odin would be able to see how much I'd changed for the better, and would decide on a lenient punishment for me; allowing me to remain in exile so I could stay with everyone. There was still so much I still had yet to experience. Elijah was about to get a promotion at his work. Ben was planning on proposing to Morgan. The lease to the house was nearly up, and everyone had been talking about moving someplace closer to where they worked. Eli and I had formed a nearly unbreakable bond from just being near each other; only to be forever bonded by making love, but neither of us could bring ourselves to do it yet.

All we had now was time.

"You know what?" I spoke up, "Let's not dwell on the past. Let's put our focus on the time we have left together."

Eli looked up at me and smiled, even though I could tell it was forced, "Okay, well, I'm starving. It's still morning. Is there anywhere you'd like to go for breakfast?"

"That little diner in Grand Ledge."

"You just described about ten different places, dude. Try to be a little more specific."

"The one with the french toast that you like so much."

"Denny's?"

"Yes, that one."

Eli nodded in agreement, and we took the Taurus out of Lansing back into Grand Ledge, and ate at the Denny's there. As it'd been the past three times we'd gone there. he had his french toast while I had a stack of pancakes. Our waitress offered us coffee. I had heard rumors that Thor had once tried coffee and loved it, however I found the piping hot beverage to strong and bitter for my taste, even with sugar and creamer. We talked as we ate about everything under the sun, trying to avoid the topic of tomorrow. Eli had called into work for the sake of being able to spend time with me today, and I was sure I'd be long gone by the time he had to leave for work tomorrow. It might jeopardize his chances at receiving that promotion, but he told me the time he had left with me now meant more to him than the rank of Lead Custodian.

After we had finished our meal, we pondered about what to do next. Eli mentioned the pet store across the street he loved so much, and the past few times he had gone, I had stayed home. I had heard tales of Thor entering a pet store, asking for a horse. Unfortunately for him, pet stores didn't sell pets as large as horses. This pet store, however, did have quite the variety of intriguing pets. I was especially fond of the chameleons and serpents there, even though they were tiny and would have more than likely been crushed by my touch. Elijah found himself fixated on the cats and pondered about getting a playmate for Sif. I wasn't nearly as enthusiastic about the matter. Sif was a little terror on her own. She didn't need a playmate to encourage her.

While we didn't leave the pet store with any pets, Eli had picked up a few odds and ends for Sif; some toys and some treats. Afterward, we drove out to Chris and Lou's house to say good-bye. Chris made us a fine lunch with some German delicacies she'd bought at a world market on an excursion to Grand Rapids. We talked for hours about this and that, and Lou and I even managed to bury the hatchet. I think he could see how sad Eli was that I was going to be leaving, and he knew he would need his parental guidance now more so than ever. I only wished that Lou would have let go of his grudge a lot sooner, and I could have joined him and Eli on the days during the summer when the two of them would go out to go fishing.

That thought gave me an idea, and I proposed to Eli that we go fishing later that evening. He argued that it would be cold, and that it would shorten the trip considerably, but he eventually gave in. I had yet to show him exactly why my name was 'Loki', a name meaning "knot" in Norse tongue. Not simply I was considered the 'knot' in Asgard's perfect threat of respected gods, but I was one hell of a fishermen; one of Asgard's best, particularly when it came to weaving the nets we used to catch fish.

We left for the lake at around five in the evening, grabbing the fishing poles and tackle boxes Lou kept in his workshop, and picking up some bait on the way. Eli found a spot on a dock to cast off of, whilst I cast off of a spot on shore nearby. We were only at it for about an hour, catching a few bluegill and sunfish here and there before, out of the the corner of my eye past the trees, I saw Elijah lurch forward and immediately pull back on his rod. The struggle lasted a few drawn out minutes as he stared intently at the water wondering out loud to himself if it was some sort of bass before exclaiming, "It's a catfish!". Seconds later, a seventeen inch channel catfish lay flopping on the dock. It took the two of us to pin it down and try to get the hook out of its mouth.

Satisfied with what we had caught, which included a few fair-sized bluegill, sunfish, perch, and the catfish, we went home. Eli was visibly shivering, and I coordinated the heat to his car as he drove, not wanting him to catch a cold on our final night together. We sang along to songs on the radio, many I had learned throughout the duration of my time on Midgard. The singers of Asgard would have envied the melodies and lyrics mortals could come up with.

We impressed Ben and Morgan with our catches once we got home. The two of them worked hard to clean the bluegill, sunfish, and perch, and skinned the catfish whilst Elijah and I worked together to cook them... Okay, Eli cooked them as I wrapped my arms around his waist and watched with my head resting on one of his shoulders. The smell of the catfish dipped in batter and fried in butter made my stomach roar, and I found myself looking forward to this last supper that I would have him.

It was late in the evening by the time we all got to eat. Cleaning and cooking the fish had been one thing, but cleaning up the mess so Sif wouldn't get into it was an ordeal in of itself. That blasted cat even snuck up on me mid-bite of one of the fillets of the catfish, and snatched a piece off of my fork, habit she seemed to have developed long ago.

Elijah was exhausted by the time dinner was finished. He'd gone all night the night before without sleeping, seeing how it is he had to work, and he'd been up all today with me today to enjoy our final day together, but he toughed it out a little bit longer for some idle chatter with Ben and Morgan.

"Do you really have to leave tomorrow?" Morgan whined, looking to me.

"Unfortunately, I must," I replied, "I would stay, if given the choice, but I have no say in the matter."

"Dude, that bites," Ben said, "We really like having you here."

"You doin' okay, Erai?" Morgan asked, glancing over to the semi-conscious blond leaning against my shoulder, "How are you taking this?"

I felt Eli shrug, "Not really much I can do, but hope for the best."

"Yes, but are you okay?"

Eli was silent for a moment before I felt him sit up. As I glanced over to him, I could see that he was holding back tears.

"No, I'm not," he looked up from his lap and gave a passing glance to all of us, "I mean, none of us are, right? I'm not okay with the fact that none of us have a say in the matter, and Loki has had an impact on all of our lives."

He was crying now. I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him to my chest. I shushed him as I held him, trying to soothe him as he cried into my shoulder and clutched at my back. He must have felt so powerless, unable to do anything to change the fate waiting for me, and the time just kept ticking away.

"Let's go to bed," I offered, "You're exhausted, and you need to sleep."

Elijah didn't argue as I guided him up off of the couch and up the stairs. Sif danced around our feet all the way up, wondering what was wrong with her owner, earning her a few accidental kicks along the way. I shut the door behind us as we entered our bedroom, and I settled him down on the bed. By now, Eli was trying to recompose himself, wiping the tears away from his eyes and sniffling.

"Perhaps trying to push the matter away from our minds wasn't the best idea," I stated, "but at least we had a lot of fun today."

"Yeah," Eli responded, continuing to wipe his eyes, "I guess we did."

I sat down beside him and ran my fingers through his short, downy blond hair. I think that's when the gravity of the situation finally began to hit home, that this would be the last time. This morning was the last time we'd eat breakfast at Denny's, the last time I would join Elijah on a shopping trip, the last time, I would see Chris and Lou, the last time Eli and I would go on an outing together, the last time we'd eat dinner together, and this would be the last time we'd fall asleep together. We tried to savor the moments when we had them, but still, in some way, took them for granted. And now this would be our last night.

Tomorrow everything was going to change.

* * *

The two of us sat in the living room on the couch. Elijah was nervously taking hits from his fifth cigar of the morning; twice what he normally smoked. The Xotic Berry smell made my nose itch, but I ignored it. If anything, I savored it. If the smell would stick to my overcoat, then I'd at least have something that I could bring with me to Asgard.

Sif was curled up on my lap, staring up at me with wide, wondering amber eyes. She knew something was wrong, but lacked the capacity to understand what. Occasionally, she would wander onto Eli's lap, and he would pet her for a while before she'd wander right back onto my lap and lay down again.

I saw Eli glance up at the clock. It was just after ten, and it's persistent ticking was that only sound that filled the room.

"When?" Eli asked, a slight tremble carrying in his voice.

"I don't know," I answered, holding his hand, "Soon, I bet."

Eli took another drag of his cigar, and the ash dropped onto his lap. We were the only ones up. Morgan had long gone to work, and Ben was till sleeping in preparation for work. The sun shone bright outside, intensified by the snow that had fallen overnight. I somehow found myself believing that I would miss the unpredictability of Michigan's weather, and that I would surely tell stories of it to whomever would be in my company in the future, whether they were prisoners of Asgard's cells, guards, Asgardians, Jotuns, or humans.

As he finished off yet another cigar, Eli leaned his head against my shoulder, "Are you ready?"

A slight laugh escaped my lips, "No, are you?"

"Nope."

He looked up at me, and I looked down at him. I bent down and pressed my lips against his, and within moments we found ourselves unable to stop. We wanted this to last for as long as possible, even if Odin himself had to tear us away from each other with his bare hands. I kissed him like it was something I would never have again, and I was sure Elijah was doing the same.

We parted for a breath before the silence was broken with a slight growl from Eli's stomach. We laughed.

"'Let me sing you the song of my people!'" he mocked, placing a hand over it in an attempt to cease its growling.

"No, no, it's, 'I will now demonstrate a whale's mating call!'" I stated, earning a small bout of laughter from him.

"Yours is worse. It's like, 'Feed me right this instant, you mewling quim!'"

We jested back and forth like this for a time, losing track of time, even, before we realized it was nearly eleven. Eli eventually gave into his hunger and stood up to make a sandwich. I got up with him, fearful of being pulled away from here before he got back, not that he'd be able to do much if anyone did show up unannounced, but it was comforting in a way. Every last moment I was to be given now was worth more to me than the Nine Realms' weight in Asgardian gold, even if some of those moments were fill with watching Eli spread peanut butter on a slice of bread.

He turned to me once he had finished, holding two slices in his hands. He offered one to me, holding it out.

"My final meal with you on Midgard, and you make me a peanut butter sandwich?" I jested.

Elijah nodded, "Fairly simple."

I smiled and reached out for the white fluffy bread that was folded in half, just how Eli like it. I reached for it, expecting my finger tips to hit it and take it from him, but instead I was met with... nothing. My fingers passed through it like it wasn't even there at all. But it  _was_  there! I could see it. A plain peanut butter sandwich, right in front of me.

I tried again, and again, and again, each time a little bit more fanatically, but I only kept getting the same result. My fingers passed through it like I had conjured an illusion of it. I looked up at Eli, who seemed to be as perplexed as I was. It wasn't until then that I noticed that the room seemed to be growing brighter and brighter, almost as if the brightness of the sun was growing in intensity.

"What's happening?" Elijah asked, troubled by what was happening.

"I'm not sure," I replied.

Brighter and brighter; nearly everything around us appeared to be white now. The sandwiches no longer existed in Eli's hands, or, at least, that's what it looked like. He was almost like an apparition approaching out of a fog, his features obscured by blinding rays of white light. In that moment, we both must have sensed what was happening, but why now? Why like this? Why couldn't it be through the Bifrost, like all the other times before where instantaneous travel between realms was required?

Eli ran towards me, yelling my name, but it sounded so distant. I ran for him, a it looked like we were going to make it to each other. He reached out for me, and I him, and I felt his hand grab onto mine for a split second before he was just gone. I cried out for him, before the white light was all I could see. My eyes strained against it, feeling dry and heavy. A pain and stiffness unlike any I had felt in ages settled into my spine. My body felt heavy, like I had bee asleep for a long, long time. My throat was dry and sore, like I hadn't had a drop of water in a decade, and a sharp pain was shooting through my left foot.

I blinked against the white light a couple of times before I could finally make out a shape: a light. Not just the white light, but a light in the ceiling that was emitting this white light. I blinked a few more times, and I was able to make out walls. Three white walls smudged with dirt and another transparent wall that looked out into an empty corridor. I could sense that I was sitting up against the far wall of this room, and I used whatever strength I could muster up to turn my head and look at my surroundings.

Broken furniture lay strewn about. The furniture that wasn't broken had been flipped over and was in disarray. Books were scattered everywhere. A bowl of berries had been spilled over the floor in front of me. The imprints of dirty fingers marked the walls, and the was a smeared blood trail leading up to my left foot. I looked down at myself and found myself wearing a plain green tunic and one of my more casual pair of leather trousers.

My mouth dropped open, echoing the one single thought that reverberated throughout my mind.

"What the Hel?"


	17. Chapter 16: Thor

"Sire!"

The jarring voice of a guard pulled me away from my thoughts, and I fought the urge to smash his skull in. Could he not see that I was mourning? I'd only just lost my mother, and the satisfaction of bludgeoning her murderers to death along with her. Father would have never approved of my current state, or my feeling of rage and hatred towards Malekith and the Kursed for killing her, but I had nothing to direct it onto, and no one to console me as I would have liked. Lady Sif and the Warriors Two could only do so much for me. Father would just tell me to put it off of my mind for the time being. During the sad moments of my life, Loki was always there to comfort me, and I him, but...

Well, Loki might was well be dead to me now.

"What is it?" I asked, trying to hide the mounting bitterness in my voice. If this guy had something important to tell me, I didn't want to scare him off by making him think I was about to throw him across the banquet hall.

"It's the prisoner, sire," he responded, and I fought the urge to roll my eyes with disdain. He would only come to me if this news involved one prisoner in particular.

"Yeah? What about him?"

"He's been asleep for the past twelve hours, sire. He just woke up. We've tried bringing him his meals, and communicating with him, but he doesn't eat, nor respond. I'm not even sure if he's alive anymore."

I felt myself tense slightly at the words. No doubt Loki must have felt great sorrow after hearing of Frigga's death. After all, he loved her more than anything, and his last words to her had been hateful and selfish. It would come as no surprise to me if he was finding it difficult to come to terms with her death, but to think he might even die from his grief... I'll admit, it made me worry, because it didn't seem all that unlikely.

Nevertheless, my father's orders were clear; no one was to visit Loki. Nobody other than the guards was to communicate with him. That was his punishment. Eternal isolation. Even so, if Loki was dying, or even in so much pain that he couldn't bring himself to continue living, as his brother, I would always be there for him, no matter what Odin's orders were.

I nodded, dismissing the guard, and mentally braced myself as I made the walk down into the dungeons. It was eerie, walking past the carnage the Dark Elves had wrought, combined with the natural gloominess the dungeons held. In truth, maybe I wasn't just fighting to protect my home from those retched creatures. Their aircraft had landed not too far off from Loki's cell. Despite his heinous crimes, and with him unarmed and locked in a box, perhaps I was fighting to protect him as well.

As his cell came into view, I prepared myself for what I might find waiting for me; a classic illusion, a vengeful trickster god, a mourning brother, or a simple corpse. While I still resented Loki for what he'd done, I did hope that the guard would be wrong. That my brother was still alive in there; whether he was trapped inside the husk of a tyrant, or otherwise.

The broken furniture inside of the cell didn't put me off that much. Loki had always been known to throw a tantrum of some sort if something happened he didn't know how to deal with, and with our mother now gone, I was sure he was struggling to cope without her presence lingering for him to call to when he wanted her. What did put me off, at first, was the blood; smeared across the floor leading to what appeared to be an open wound. Then again, there were berries scattered on the floor around him. It would be a simple trick for him to step on a couple and drag his foot to make it seem like he was bleeding, but then I looked at him.

I truly looked at him.

He did look like a corpse. His hair had grown longer from the time when he'd first been imprisoned, and it was tangled and messy in every way he absolutely despised. Dark rings shrouded his eyes, contrasting strongly with his pale, almost sickly visage. He sat slumped against the back wall, his elbows hanging loosely at his sides while his hands sat on his lap, and his legs stretched out in front of him. His head was turned to one side, and what I could make out of his eyes appeared to be staring blankly at the floor.

"Loki?" I called out softly to him.

He didn't respond, but I could see his chest rising and falling at a shallow rhythm. He was alive.

Under any other circumstances I would have just left it at that, turned, and walked away, but something kept me fixated on him. I had never seen Loki behave in such a manner before. Of course over the many centuries we spent growing up together, I had seen him sad, but never as depressed as he was now. It was depressing in of itself, and worrying. Had Frigga's death really impacted him that greatly?

I had one of the guards disable the force-field-like door to his cell and stepped inside. Not once during this did he so much as glance in my direction, not even as I approached him and knelt down to his level. I knew ahead of time I could very well be falling for another one of his tricks, and that he could ambush me at any given moment, but I knew as things stood now I could take him in a fight, should he choose to attack. But I had the slightest feeling that this wasn't going to be the case.

"Loki," I called to him again gently, "are you all right?"

A noise escaped him; something like a sigh, but also like a simple exhale through the nose, "I don't understand..."

His words caught me of guard. There was no mockery, no jest in his tone. In fact, his voice sounded as pained and lifeless as the expressions on his face. I figured he might be referring to Frigga's death. Perhaps he was having a hard time understanding how someone so strong and so clever had been bested by a Dark Elf. I know it took a bit of time for me to wrap my head around that fact.

"I know, I know," I said, resting my and on his shoulder, "but everything's going to be all right."

A bewildered look settled on Loki's face, "How did I-? I was on Midgard..."

His ramblings ignited a bewilderment of my own, "Yes... but that was some time ago."

"No, I mean I was  _just_  on Midgard with Elijah, waiting, and suddenly-" he paused and finally turned his head to look at me, and I could see a flicker of sadness in his eyes, "Wait, how did I get here?"

I shook my head, confused, "No, Loki. You must have had some sort of dream. You've been here the whole time."

Loki looked me up and down with a sort of quizzical look, as if he doubted my words. For a brief moment his face cracked into a laughing smile, "No. No, that's not possible."

"Loki-"

"No..." he was shaking his head in denial, but both his smile and his voice were beginning to crack with grief. I could see tears welling up in his eyes, "No, this... this isn't real..."

I held him, growing concerned he'd had one of his infamous nightmares. He used to have them all the time when we were younger, and would be so shaken by them that there were times he wouldn't sleep for the rest of this night when I was there.

"It's okay," I said calmly, "It was only a dream. You're all right."

"No... no..." he was rocking himself. Whatever this dream was, it must have been something traumatic, but the next thing he said really put me off, "It wasn't... it couldn't have been..."

"Loki, listen to me-"

" _No_!" he shouted, finally facing me as he gripped my arms tightly. The panic in his voice also carried in his eyes. His fear was making it difficult to breathe as the muscles in his neck tightened, and his chest began to heave, "It couldn't have been a dream!"

"Loki, listen," I said, keeping one hand on his shoulder and the other against the side of his neck to hold him still, "It was a dream. You've been asleep for twelve hours."

We locked eyes for several drawn out seconds as Loki tried to calm himself. His eyes moved around his cell, as if he'd never seen it before in his life. He had this look on his face... something between disbelief and pure horror.

"So..." he finally muttered, "I was never on Midgard..."

"Not since your little stunt in New York, no," I confirmed.

"Elijah..."

"I haven't the slightest idea who that is."

"... Mother?"

I patted his shoulder roughly and dropped my gaze, "She's gone."

The emotional agony and anguish that coated his features at hearing this would have made one think he'd had a spear driven slowly through his ribs. Not a noise came out of him, at first, as he slowly curled in on himself before uttering an earth-shattering sob and burying his face into his knees. I had to take a couple of steps back from him. I'd never seen him so broken over anything before in his life. At his sentencing, all that had been on his mind was his insatiable desire to be king and his bitterness towards Odin. Now he was mourning over Frigga, and someone name Elijah. The first I could understand perfectly well, but the other... I'd never even heard of a person with such a name.

As it became clear that Loki's distress wouldn't be calmed anytime soon, I turned and exited his cell, allowing the guard that had followed me there to re-activate the force-field-like door behind me. I didn't want to leave him, not when he was in so much emotion suffering, but I needed answers, and I only knew of one person whom might know who Loki had been referring to.

* * *

"You want to do what?"

Obviously my proposal for an investigation into Loki's bizarre dream didn't go over well with Lady Sif and the Warrior's Two. Sif looked at me as if I had proposed an assassination on Odin. Fandral sat at our secluded table hunched over, elbows propped, and fingers laced in a pondering sort of way. Volstagg had started off laughing over the brim of his stein of ale, but after finding out that I was entirely serious on the matter, his cheerful expression dropped to one nearly as grim as the one Hogun always held.

"Clearly this is something much bigger than anything any one of us can hope to understand," I explained, "I've known Loki for practically my entire life, and never before have I ever seen him wail so mournfully."

"I mean, I get it," Volstagg said, "Frigga was someone very dear to him, and he's mourning; Hel, all of Asgard mourned just as he did, but going on some wild goose chase for some Midgardian? How do we even know this Elijah character even exists? What if he's just making it all up just for the sake of sending us on a wild goose chase?"

A distant wail cut though our thoughts. It'd been two hours since I'd left Loki's cell, and over the course of that time, his weeping had grown louder and louder. I was surprised that Odin hadn't done anything to shut him up yet. Then again he was originally the one that sent a guard to notify him of Frigga's death in the first place, and he did understand that Frigga was the one person he held nearest and dearest to him. Maybe he was just allowing Loki to grieve as only Loki could, but I felt that our mother's death only played a small roll in his torment. It was this human, this Elijah, whom he really needed to see, and at this rate, Loki would really die from a broken heart if we didn't find this Elijah fellow, and fast.

"I don't think he is," Fandral spoke up, "I agree with Thor;  _nothing_  has ever put Loki through so much distress. Then again, Volstagg has a point. How do we know this Elijah character even exists? He could have just been someone who popped up in a dream, or something; a figment of his imaginings."

"No, I don't think so," Lady Sif stated, "There's a belief on Midgard that if a person appears in your dreams, then you've seen that person before; whether they're a close friend, or someone you simply glanced over in a crowd. As much as I'm unable to forgive Loki for what he's done, I feel like finding Elijah would be the easiest way to end his suffering."

"Next to killing him..." Volstagg muttered under his breath.

I shot him a dirty look. At one time I might have thought putting Loki to death would have been in the Nine Realms' best interest, but in the end he was still my brother, and I didn't want to have to lay witness to his execution, nor did I want him to suffer, and he was currently suffering.

"I think our first course of action should be finding out what we can from Loki," I said, "Obviously he plays a significant role in his mind. What that roll is, I'm not sure, but I do know there's bound to be a million humans on Earth named Elijah, and only one is the Elijah we're looking for."

Lady Sif nodded begrudgingly. Fandral let out sigh, resigning himself to the task at hand. Volstagg shook his head.

"I still think this is just going to be a wild goose chase."

* * *

The four of us sat outside of Loki's cell, staring at the pitiful state my brother had been reduced to. He lay on his side facing away from us, knees pulled up to his chest as sobs continued to wrack his body. It was clear he was too exhausted to keep up the deafening wail he'd been letting out all evening. I'd be surprised if he even had the ability to speak still after all that, if he'd speak to us at all.

"Loki?" I called out to him, "We're here."

Although he was probably well aware of our presence already, he still struggled to lift his head and toss a glance over his shoulder towards us. He looked three time as worse as when I'd left him, his eyes and face red from crying, and with all the energy he'd used throughout the day, he looked even sicklier than he had mere hours ago.

I caught a glare flashing across his features as he looked away from us, "What do you all want?"

The venom in his words stung. Was he still bitter from being locked in here like he'd been at his trial? Did it have something to do with his strange dream, and the confusion he'd endured after? Maybe it was a little bit of both scenarios that upset him, and I did hope that he'd be willing to discuss it. Otherwise, I wasn't so sure exactly if there'd be a way of helping him.

"We've come to help you," Sif told him gently.

Loki's body jerked as he scoffed, "Funny  _you_  should say that..."

"Earlier, you spoke of somebody named Elijah," I stated, "Who exactly was this mortal?"

"Why does it matter? T'was naught but a dream, after all..."

"Well, obviously it wasn't," Volstagg retorted, "Why would you be tearing yourself apart, otherwise?"

Loki curled up tighter, "Go away."

"Loki, we can't help you if you say nothing," Fandral said, "Please speak your mind. You're amongst friends here."

After a few drawn out moments, Loki finally found it in himself to sit up, thought he refused to face us. He tried to say something, but his head dropped as his sadness consumed him once more, but he did manage to let out a single phrase, "I loved him..."

The four of us shared a perplexed look. It was no secret that Loki's selections when it narrowed down to romance had always been odd, such as the antics that had led to the birth of Sleipnir, Jormungandr, and Fenris, so perhaps having an attraction to a mortal man wasn't so unusual, but he hadn't shown the slightest interesting in courting anyone as of late. I didn't think he'd ever bring himself to find a lover, not even in his wildest dreams.

"Well then tell us about him!" Fandral exclaimed eagerly, "Was he dashing?"

"Perhaps more sly and mischievous, such as yourself?" Volstagg added.

Before we knew it, we were all invested in finding out more about this dream lover of Loki's, bombarding him with question after question until I was sure he was going to burst out of his cell and drive a knife through all of our throats.

"What was he like?" Sif inquired, leaning forward in interest.

"Was he short, or tall?" Fandral asked.

"Lean or muscular?"

"Was he a warrior?" I had the nerve to ask, "Royalty? A commoner?"

"What sort of food and drink did he partake in?" Volstagg inquired, causing in us to shoot him a questioning look, "What? This is important information! You can tell a lot about a man based on his appetite."

Loki's eyes scanned his thoughts, clearly looking for the right words, "He was..."

"Yes?" we scooted closer to listen to him.

"He was..."

Surely this was about to be the most poetic lament we'd ever heard from him, judging from how hard he seemed to be thinking through his words. He opened his mouth, and his jaw trembled, nearly causing his teeth to chatter, "... a fool."

We became still as the word assaulted our ears. A fool? Sure, Loki saw most individuals as fools, but to describe someone he supposedly loved as such felt a bit daunting. It did paint the greatest of pictures to give us an idea about what this mortal was like.

"A fool?" I echoed.

"Yes..." Loki answered quietly, "Such a fool. He was ignorant, and reckless, and completely childish," he let out a pained laugh, "Sometimes the simplest things could keep him entertained for hours, and he had this way of speaking that would make you think he'd learned English from a Neanderthal, but..." he trailed of, but the way warmth seemed to spread across his features along with the pain said more than just words, "but he was kind. He was generous. Even in the beginning when I could be such a tyrant, he still stood strong and accepted me as I was, even when he saw my Jotun form. We went through so much together... I should have known it was all a dream. I'd given anything to stay in that world. I had friends, a man who loved me..."

Sif shook her head, "But Loki, you have us. We're your friends."

Finally, for the first time since we settled ourselves in front of his cell, Loki turned and looked at us fully. The expression on his face was one of betrayal and mistrust; it was hard to look at.

"Are you, really, Sif?" he asked hatefully, "Because... I seem to remember a certain someone completely disregarding the very fact that I was to stand in as king for Odin whilst he was in the Odin sleep, asking for him or my mother before finally settling for me; the one who was actually  _sitting_  on the throne. Even then, you still didn't want anything to do with me. You were all too preoccupied with wanting to pull Thor out of banishment, whilst I sat there terrified that my father would never awaken again, and I'd be stuck on a throne I'd never even wanted. You only called me your friend because I was always around Thor, your  _true friend_. Even a blind pig could see the problem with this."

Loki's words had silenced Lady Sif. He wasn't wrong, come to think of it, and I was never informed of all of this after I'd returned from Midgard; only that Loki was on the throne and causing mayhem.

"I also seem to recall admitting to you guys that I was the one who told the guard to send for Odin as we left for Jotunheim," Loki added, "and  _what_ was the first thing you asked of me, Sif? Something along the lines of going up to Odin and begging him to change his mind? At least Fandral and Volstagg acknowledged that I had saved our lives, or we'd all have died long ago in that frozen wasteland."

Sif pursed her lips as she glared angrily at Loki, "Alright... then what did these  _friends_  do in your dream that was so significant."

Loki's response was automatic, "They accepted me. They didn't try to change who I was, and our love and respect for each other was distributed equally amongst the four of us..." he stopped and turned away from us once more, "but what does it matter now? It was nothing but a dream, and I'll never see any of them ever again."

His voice broke again, and I could tell he was crying.

I wanted to console him, "Loki-"

"Don't..."

"Let us help you..."

"No!"

"Brother-"

" _Go away_!" he shrieked, causing us to back away quickly from his cell, "Leave me here to rot in whatever last threads of peace I can scrounge up."

We forced ourselves to walk away as the dungeons were filled with the sound of his sorrowful weeping. While he'd said something about this Elijah character, it wasn't much to go off of, but our resources weren't used up yet. There was still one more person we could go to who could possibly provide us with some answers.

* * *

"You seek a mortal known by the name of Elijah."

The four of us stood completely dumbfounded at the Bifrost site as Heimdall met us there. I suppose we shouldn't have been surprised, as Heimdall could see and hear all that went on throughout all Nine Realms, but it was still a bit daunting; to be doing something that was considered treason of the highest sort, and to be confronted by someone who could have easily turned us in, but wouldn't, for morality's sake, as Odin hadn't been in quite the right mind to be ruling filled with anger and grief. It would be just as dangerous as throwing Loki up on the throne as he was now.

It see that it seemed like Heimdall was on our side already was comforting.

"Yes," I replied, "Do you happen to know who Loki might be referring to?"

Heimdall smirked. He took his sword and activated the Bifrost.

"There's only one mortal by that name that is mourning as he is..."


	18. Chapter 17: Eli

The warehouse was quiet as I pushed my janitor's cart up the far right aisle and parked it in an empty space off to the side. It was a typicle mess; the concrete floor was black from the coming and going of forklifts, and splinters of various sizes that had been chipped off of wooden pallets were strewn about. At least tonight promised to be easy. After this weekend, I don't think I had the emotional capacity to be slammed with a spill.

Sometimes I wished it wasn't so quiet when I worked. Silence often made my mind wander, and right now it was thinking back on memories that were best to forget.

The past year that I spent living with Loki had never happened.

I still wasn't able to shake off the shock of waking up in my bed in my hotel room at the Blue Roof Inn, still dressed in my chemical-scented clothes I'd worn to work, and my phone blowing up with messages from Ben and Morgan from the convention, wondering where the hell I was, since I had neglected to text them to let them know I had made it back to the hotel safely. Poor guys had thought I spent the past twelve hours in a car wreck somewhere.

It hadn't been an hour after waking up that Ben and Morgan came bursting into the room looking for answers. I guess, at the time, I was looking a little worse for wear, because their annoyance quickly turned into concern. I must have had tears in my eyes, because Morgan instantly started giving me the same inquary as she always did when she knew I was distressed; what happened? Are you alright? What's wrong?

For a while, I didn't know what to say. I mean how do you tell your friends you lived out a year in a dream that had really only lasted twelve hours? They said the only thing they could get from the hysterical mess that I was in was me repeating "Loki" over and over as I bawled into Morgan's shoulder. Naturally, she thought I was only talking about her crazy pitbull at her parent's house, and tried to assure me that everything was fine. Eventually, I had pulled myself together enough to explain the real reason behind my grief, only to be met with probably the last response that I wanted to hear at the time: it was just a dream.

But that was the truth of it, wasn't it? It was all just a dream, because god's didn't exist.

I felt my eyes sting and the blurriness caused by the condensation built up in safety glasses on my face rapidly increased. I quickly wiped the tears away. I wasn't about to start blubbering over this shit while I was at work.

"Hey, you alright?"

Too late.

I let out a sigh as I turned around to find Sparkles striding up to me with a concerned look on her face.

I supressed a sniff, "I'm fine. Why?"

"Well, normally you're always smilin' and got a spring in your step, but you've been lookin' like a zombie ever since you walked in today. Did somethin' happen?"

"I guess you could say that."

"Well, tell me. 'Cause obviously keeping it to yourself ain't doin' you any good."

Where do I even begin? Sparkles was kind of like a mom to me while I was at work. I've vented to her about break-ups, stressful nights at work, and bullshit going on at home, but how could I tell her that I was getting all bent out of shape over someone who didn't even exist?

"Let's just say I lost someone I was really close to..." I muttered, sitting down on a short stack of pallets. I know how it sounded. Like someone I knew had just died.

"I'm sorry, kiddo," Sparkles said, resting a hand on my shoulder, encouaging the tears to resurface, "Have you said anythin' to Aaron? He can give you some time off, if you need it."

"Time off isn't gonna do me any good. I'll just wind up making myself even more sad."

"Yeah, but running around like a chicken with his head cut off 'round here ain't doin' you good either. You should take couple of days. You deserve it."

I could only answer with a shrug. I'd heard it all before from the line workers; that they couldn't believe some of the bullshit we had to put up with in Sanitation, but that bullshit was my job, and, truth be told, I felt it was better for me to be at work right now, rather than sitting around the apartment, moping.

"I'll be all right," I said, standing back up, "Keeping myself busy will do me some good, anyway."

Sparkles didn't seem all that convinced, but let the matter slide as she made her way out of the warehouse and back to her line.

As I found myself alone once more, I couldn't help but think about the dream as a whole. Why did it have to be so beautifully detailed? Why did events fall into place one after another so seamlessly, never once giving me an indication that it was even a dream? I ate as I normally would, slept as I normally would, worked as I normally would, people in my life behaved as they normally would, and I had even dreamed at times when I slept in that dream. All begging the question as to why? Why, and how? How could all of that have been a dream, and why had it seemed so real to begin with?

I tried to push the thought to the back of my mind as I turned my attention back to the blackened concrete floors. They weren't going to do themselves, and I sure as hell knew I couldn't rely on Mike to properly clean it with the floor scrubber, with how poorly he operated the machine.

"Eli!"

I had just dipped my mop in the clean water when I heard Aaron's voice from behind me. The suddeness of it had caused me to jump, clutching the handle to my mop as I wheeled around. Had it been anyone else, I would be chewing into them for scaring the absolute piss out of me, but this was Aaron; my boss. If anything, _I_ was the one who was about to be chewed out.

"Yes, sir?" I asked, bracing myself for some sort of lecture, or perhaps a task I had somehow forgotten. Wouldn't be the first time.

"You have a visitor waiting for you in the break room," Aaron stated, "Said it was a pretty urgent matter?"

I felt my face contort in confusion, "I wasn't expecting a visitor..."

"Well, they asked for _you_ specifically."

I pulled out my phone and checked my messages, "Nobody's tried to get a hold of me today, and it's 1AM. Who's looking for me at one o'clock in the morning?"

"One of your convention buddies, I'm assuming."

My confusion deepened, "What makes you say that?"

Aaron shrugged, "I don't know. Tall, buff, long blond hair, red cape, big-ass hammer; any of those ring any bells?"

I felt my heart leap in my throat, "Big-ass hammer?"

"Yeah. Kinda sounds like British royalty, but looks like he came out of, like, the viking age, or something. Guy totally screams prince charming..."

"No way..."

I bolted. I sprinted down the aisle and through the warehouse doors onto the production floor. A sharp right almost sent me landing onto the forks of a Hi-Lo. I managed to weeve around it and rushed past the palletizing station into a narrow walkway. I felt my feet slip and slide against the tile there; still wet from when I had mopped it and slick with the chemical that had been put into the water. My boots provided enough traction to keep me from falling on my face, but the same couldn't really be said about the poor lab rat in the white smock carrying samples of dips and dressings back to her station.

I could apologize for all the calamity later. I was paractically throwing my personal protective equipment - my hard hat, hair net, saftey glasses, chemical resistant gloves, waterproof apron, and steel toe rubber boots - onto the floor as I quickly slipped into my out-of-work shoes, and hightailed it out of the locker rooms and up the stairs that led up to the breakroom.

_No way! I'm still dreaming. This is just some sort of cruel joke. No way it's actually him!_

I froze as I flew through the stairway and into the break room. The first thing I saw was red.

It was as Aaron had said; red cape, long blond hair, big-ass hammer, distastefully large muscles, at least for my taste.

The name rolled of my tongue as this behemoth of a man, or _god_ , I should say, turned to me. I could practically see the lightning in his vibrant blue eyes.

"Thor?"

This guy looked about as skeptical as I felt as he looked me up and down, "You are the one known as 'Elijah'?"

I could only respond with a dumbfounded stare, but I think I was able to manage slip in a nod in confirmation somewhere.

The blond set his massive hammer aside and stuck out his hand, "Thor Odinson..."

I practically threw myself at him. I never thought I'd actually see the guy again, let alone find him in the break room while I was at work. The frist thing to spew from my mouth was an incoherent, rambling mixture of how happy I was to see him, and Loki. Some part of me wanted to cry, but between already sweating out multiple bottles' worth of fluids and the breathless state I was in from running for the first time since I got out of PE class in high school, all I could do was sniffle as I gasped uncontrollably for some much-needed air. The first fully structured sentence I managed to get out of my mouth was, "How are you here?!"

It wasn't exactly the most ludicrous question to ask. How was Thor, the Norse god of thunder, here at my work? How did he manage to find me? More importantly, why was he here?

"Heimdall sent me," Thor responded.

Memories resurfaced regarding Frigga, and how she had mentioned Heimdall during her visit.

"Can you shock me, or something?" I asked, "because I swear if this is another dream--"

"This is _not_ a dream," Thor said firmly, pulling me off of him, "I need you to come with me to Asgard."

I was silent for a moment before meeting his gaze, "Loki?"

Thor nodded.

"What happened to him? Is he all right?"

The thunderer's gaze fell as a veil of guilt fell over his expressions, "He's currently in Asgard's dungeons, and he's not doing well. All he's been able to do since he's awakened is lash out and cry whilst repeating your name over and over."

My chest tightened at his words at the idea of Loki sitting alone in a dank and dreary prison cell, "Has Frigga been able to comfort him any?"

Thor guilty expression deepened, "Frigga died three days ago."

My heart seemed to stop at the words, "What?"

"Dark Elves invaded Asgard. She was stabbed trying to protect my girlfriend Jane."

Jane... Jane. It felt like I had heard Loki mention that name before in my dream, but to find out that Frigga had also appeared there, mere days after she had died, it was difficult for me to wrap my head around it. I could only imagine how Loki must be feeling right now; sad, confused, trying to separate events from the dream from his real life, and sitting alone in a cell, too. He must feel completely overwhelmed, and the fact that Thor was here telling me all of this could only mean Loki was looking for me, if only to get some sort of confirmation that I still existed and wasn't a figment of his imagination like I'd been thinking of him this whole time.

"Can I see him?" I asked.

"Of course," Thor replied, "that's why I came for you, but we have to hurry. We don't have much time."

I didn't think twice about it as I guided the thunderer out of the break room towards the exit. If Aaron asked, I could just say it was a family emergency. It wouldn't be a complete lie. Loki was like family to me, after all, even if it was all lived inside of a dream, and this _was_ an emergency, at least to me.

"How are we going to get there?" I asked as we charged through the heavy metal door that led outside, "The Bifrost?"

"Exactly," Thor curtly confirmed.

We rounded one of the sides of the building where a circular design lay scorched into the pavement of the parking lot. About a dozen or so line workers and Hi-Lo drivers, who had likely snuck out to have a quick smoke, were gathered around the perimeter of it... which reminded me...

"Could you hold on for just one moment, please?" I asked, skidding to a halt, "I have to grab something from my car."

"Um, sure," Thor replied with a frown.

I quickly crossed the parking lot next to the dumpsters where my old Taurus was parked. I spammed the unlock button to my keys the entire way, and parctically threw myself into the driver's seat as I began rummaging through trash from past lunches until I managed to dig out a few packs of Cheyennes. I didn't know how long I was going to be gone, after all.

Locking the car door behind me, I quickly shot a text to Ben.

**_'Hey, dude. Something came up. I won't be able to give you a ride home tonight.'_ **

No way I was about to tell him I was about to be beamed to another realm. Ben and Morgan's introduction to Loki hadn't actually happened, so there was no way he'd actually believe me if I told him what was really going to happen.

I reached where Thor stood in the smoldering transport site just as Ben's reply came, **_'No problem, bruh. See ya whenever.'_**

"Okay," I said, turning off my phone as I looked up to Thor, "We're good."

Thor simply smiled and nodded as he turned his gaze to the starless sky, "Hold on to me tightly."

I just barely managed to latch onto the thunderer's shoulders before I heard him call out Heimdall's name, and my vision was flooded with a rainbow of blues, greens, yellows, and pinks; many of the pastel colors I had seen when Frigga had vanished into the Bifrost in my dream.

I'm pretty sure I screamed the entire way.

For a whole minute, it felt like I was just dangling there; no floor beneath me and nothing there to catch me between where we were headed and the miles of empty space surrounding us. I could only imagine what a fall or misguided maneuver could do from this height. Then we were walking. The air rushing past us as we flew gradually slowed down, and the blinding pastels dimmed into a warm, inviting golden glow. Even after we stopped, I clung to Thor for a few seconds more, until a deep voice filled the room surrounding us.

"Welcome to Asgard."

Standing squarely before us, clutching what had to be the hilt to a massive sword in his hands, was a tower of a man with dark skin clad in golden armor. His eyes held me in place for a moment, shining like two brilliant golden coins, even in the dim light of the room. Maybe it was just his helmet, but he seemed to loom over Thor by a good six inches, and Thor already made me feel like a midget all on his own.

Slowly, I released my grip on Thor's shoulders and I took a cautious step forward, "You must be Heimdall."

"And you must be Elijah," the man responded, yet keeping himself rooted to where he stood, "I've heard quite a lot about you."

"All good things, I hope."

"Midgardian fool?"

"Yup, that sounds about right."

I turned my head to where Heimdall's gaze pointed, and my jaw dropped as my vision filled with billions of stars shining in the deep purples and enchanting blues of space.

"Woah..." I said breathlessly, "Cool..."

"Beautiful, isn't it?" I heard Heimdall say, and I nodded, "You see, Thor, some people really can see beauty in the stars, even during the Convergance."

"I still see nothing," Thor said, coming up beside us.

"I've never seen anything like this," I commented, "I feel like I could just sit here and stare at it for hours."

A hand rested against my shoulder, "Perhaps a little later. Right now we have more pressing matters."

A distant wail tore me from my thoughts. It pushed the thoughts of space and stars far out of my mind and twisted a knot in my stomach.

"Loki!"


	19. Chapter 18: Loki

"Loki..."

I scowled and slid deeper into the wreckage of my cell, "Dont."

The silence I sought was drowned out with a frustrated sigh from Sif, "Do you  _truly_  not see me as your friend anymore, Loki?"

What kind of question was that?  _Of course_  I didn't see her as my friend. In truth, I don't think I'd ever seen her as my friend, not even once. The fact of the matter was she was simply Thor's friend, and I was Thor's brother, and we merely tolerated each other when we were in each other's presence for that one reason. If we were being realistic, she hated me about as much as I hated her. Why she was even bothering to carry on this conversation was completely lost on me.

Knowing I wouldn't be given the solitude I wanted until I answered her question, I turned to where Lady Sif was knelt outside of my cell, "Let's be honest with each other, for once. No tricks, no lies, no illusions. Just pure, brutal honestly."

"Of course," Sif responded.

"Alright, first off, why are you even here?"

"Because I worry for you," the statement nearly caused me to gag, and I felt the strain on my eyes as they rolled in annoyance, "You're my friend, and Thor's brother. You can't even begin to comprehend the extent that he cares for you. Probably more so than he cares about me. That's why I came back. You look as though you could die any minute from your grief, and I know if that happened Thor wouldn't be able to take it."

"So this is still all about Thor..."

"Loki, please try to be reasonable."

In my mind, I was being perfectly reasonable. She tolerated my existence because of Thor. She was here because of Thor. Everything involving her association with me could be traced back to a single source: my bumbling oaf of a brother.

"Thor, Thor, Thor..." I droned, "In that regard, I suppose I feel the same towards you."

Sif's expression contorted into a look of confusion, "What do you mean?"

"Think about it. If I was as cruel and heartless as everyone on Asgard makes me out to be, I would have left you all to die back in Jotunheim, but I knew how Thor would have grieved if I would have allowed that. As I've said, I love Thor more dearly than any of you. He clearly cares for all of you, and all I want is for him to be happy, so in the end we both only strive for one thing: Thor's happiness."

"So... what your saying is that you don't see me as your friend at all?"

I nodded, "In my dream, I got to see what true friendship is, and what we have, Sif, is not that."

Sif's eyes fell to her lap as she took in my words. I could tell she was hurt by what I had said, but it's what she needed to hear. We'd gone on too long with calling each other friends when we both knew we'd kill each other without a moment's hesitation. It was time to drop the illusion and let reality creep back in.

"Can I ask you something, Sif?" I piped up as I reclined against the far wall of my cell, "How was the feast you all had after Thor stopped me from destroying Jotunheim?"

Sif's gaze quickly darted to me, and I could tell she had picked up the question the original inquiry was hiding: 'How was the feast you all sat around and enjoyed when you all thought I was dead?'

"Loki..."

I could tell she wanted to lie; try to tell me they sat in the Healers' chambers mourning over my loss, but it was like I could see it all playing over behind the glimmer of her eyes; mugs of ale, goblets of wine, platters overflowing with food, stories, and laughter. They did everything  _but_  mourn.

"It was very lovely," Sif finally answered quietly.

My mind was brought back to the conversation Thor and I had moments after he'd snatched me from the jet those blasted Avengers had been transporting me in.

_"I thought you dead."_

_"Did you mourn?"_

_"We all did..."_

No they didn't.  _Thor_  did,  _Frigga_  did, and perhaps even Odin did, as well, but no one else. If anything the rest of Asgard was glad to be rid of me, and I fell out of everyone's minds faster than anyone else had before. My presence wasn't missed. But then, what more could I have expected? I was the Trickster, the Liesmith, the Silver-tongue. I was merely a tool; a convenience when needed, and a pest the rest of the time. I was a Jotun. Nothing more than a monster and now I had proven it to all of Asgard. I deserved to be locked away in a cell.

Whether my point had finally gotten across to her, or my silence signified an end to our discussion, Sif eventually stood up and exited the dungeons. I felt a small sense of relief wash over me as her footfalls faded down the corridor, but then the silence fell over my cell, and I let my mind wander.

' _What will you do now?'_

I felt a shiver run through me as a green shimmer of light manifested just over my left shoulder. From it, an image of myself from the previous year formed and knelt down beside me. Gods, I hadn't dealt with this problem since I was a boy. Whenever I felt guilty, and I allowed my mind to dwell on it for a while, my thoughts would manifest into an image of myself. Midgardians would call it "talking some sense into yourself", but no... this was far, far worse. This was less me talking some sense into myself, and more my shame and guilt bullying me until I went mad.

' _What's your big escape plan this time?'_

I hated these illusions. I had no control over them, letting my conscience take on a visible form and audible words.

_'You never seem to learn, do you?'_  the projection stood up and began pacing, circling me almost like a shark,  _'You do well for a while, lay low, only to get yourself caught up in yet another one of your own mischievous schemes.'_

Another green shimmer of light transformed the projection into an image of myself in my battle armour; helmet, and all. It felt good leaving it behind in the apartment in my dream, and it felt equally as satisfying seeing Elijah try to balance the horns on his own head. They suited him a lot better. Seeing them now, assembled so elegantly on this projection, was revolting. I could practically see the tesseract reflecting in his eyes, transforming them into an icy blue instead of their usual green.

Was this what I really looked like when I was standing over Midgard?

_'You had everything. You were already on the throne. All you had to do was wait. Sure, Thor would have come back eventually, but if you hadn't gone out of your way to trick Thor into thinking Odin was dead, had you never chosen to attack Jotunheim, had you never killed Laufey, everything would have turned out fine.'_

"Then Jotunheim and Asgard would still be on the brink of war," I knew better than to argue with one of these projections, but with it reminding me of all my past wrongdoings, I found myself unable to stop, "Do you really think you would have been able to handle that?"

_'Maybe, maybe not. You've always managed to make it out of things all right. In fact, I think this is the worst bind you've gotten yourself into since the incident when you cut off all of Sif's hair. Centuries later, and nobody suspects that she's still wearing a wig. All you had to do was what Frigga asked of you, and just waited until Odin either died for real, or came out of the Odinsleep, then-'_

"Then what? We'd  _still_  be on the brink of war with Jotunheim, Thor would still be banished, and I would still be stranded on a throne I didn't want. And even then, all the Nine Realms would speak of how it should be Thor Odinson who took the throne, not me."

_'And then what? The Convergence, the Aether, the Dark Elves, Malekith? And what about mother?'_ the projection flickered once more into a mirrored image of my current state; disheveled, unkempt, pale, disgusting, essentially how I really felt deep down. The jesting tone of his voice dropped into one of hatred and anger,  _'You should have been out there. You should have been fighting alongside her, but instead you were locked up here. Had you put your own selfish ambitions aside, she would still be ali-'_

Before the projection could finish its sentence, it flickered out of existence in the same green shimmer from which it came and was replaced with another image... a fonder one, but no less destressing. The light inside the cell seemed to be consumed by his long, fluffy back coat; the one that looked like a walking sleeping bag. His short blond hair was nearly white, and the lights turned his vibrant blue eyes into a steely grey in color. He wasn't smiling, and I think it would have killed me if he was. I didn't want to see that smile, not from a lousy projection, so the slight frown playing on his lips and the sadness reflecting in his eyes that matched my own was fitting.

I let out a scoff, "Now I know I've completely lost my mind. I didn't even think of letting Elijah talk some sense into me."

The projection didn't respond. He continued to stare down at me with his pitying gaze. It hurt. Even if he wasn't real, I hated the thought of him seeing me like this. Probably just another way my mind wanted to torment me.

"Go ahead," I said, "I'm sure you're going to try to tell me that I'll get myself out of this somehow. That I'll come up with something. I tried, alright? If the Kursed had just let me out, I would have killed him the moment he started walking in Frigga's direction, but he didn't. I think even  _he_  knew how dangerous I was."

The projection still remained silent, but the sadness in its features deepened. Now it was just pissing me off. Sure, Elijah wouldn't know what to say if I really laid it all out in front of him as I was, but this  _wasn't_ him. It couldn't be. There was just no way.

"Would you say something?" I inquired irritably, "You were chewing into me just a second ago, and now you're giving me the silent treatment?"

Still, the projection said nothing. My frustration mounted, and my blood boiled as I threw myself to my feet.

"Say something!" I shouted.

It was then that the projection did something I wasn't expecting. It took a step forward, his worn out sneakers tapping audibly against the floor as his arms wrapped around me. The air left my lungs as his chest pressed against mine. I felt warmth as his head rested against my shoulder and his hands caressed my back. Breath stirred in his lungs as his chest rose and fell against mine, and a familiar smell made the inside of my nose itch; the smell of Xotic Berry Cheyennes.

In that moment, time stood still as I questioned if what I was experiencing was actually happening. Even I couldn't really touch one of my projections, and they couldn't really touch me... but this  _had to be_  a projection. There was no way Elijah was  _actually_ here. It just wasn't possible...

And then I looked towards the door to my cell. In the dim light of the hall of the dungeons, standing outside of my cell with a warm smile on his face, was my brother. My eyes shifted away from his down to the projection, no, the  _person_ , pressed against me. Slowly, I brought my arms up and wrapped them around his torso, and my fingers met the foreign texture of Midgardian fabric.

My mind started racing. There was so much I wanted to say in that moment; so many questions, and things I wanted to tell him in the dream that I never got the chance to. But there was one thing that I wanted. If I could be given this one thing at this very moment, if Odin were to execute me, I would die happy: a confirmation.

"Eli?" my voice was weak. It trembled as though I was playing into one of my own tricks without even realizing it. The fear that everything could be ripped away again so easily was mortifying.

The arms that were wrapped around me held me closer, and I instinctively did the same as I felt a nod from over my shoulder. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest as my eyes stung and my vision blurred as they filled with tears. My fingers laced through the faux fur that lined his coat's hood before straying through his coarse, dry hair. I took a moment to pull away and just look at him. He looked as I imagined I did at the moment; a quivering, joyous smile playing on his lips as tears began streaming from his eyes.

I couldn't believe it. Eli was here. He was  _real_ , and he was  _here_!

"But... how?" I asked, "When? That was a dream, wasn't it?"

Eli shrugged, "I just got here around twenty minutes ago, actually. Thor picked me up directly from work."

"But where did he even know where to find you?"

"Heimdall."

Figures.

I turned towards my brother as he continued to smile as he watched us, "Know that I'll be sure to repay you for this one day, Thor."

Thor let out a chuckle, "No matter what, you're still my brother, Loki, and I love you. My only wish is to see you happy."

My heart broke a little. It seemed like no matter what I did, no matter how much mischief I caused, no matter how many times I hurt him or betrayed his trust, I'd remain a brother in his eyes, even if I stated otherwise.

As we fell back into each other's arms, Elijah's fingers laced between my own. They were so warm, just as they were in my dream.

"Your hands are cold," I could hear him mumble against my shoulder.

I let out a small laugh, "Well, you know what they say: cold hands..."

"Warm heart."

In that moment, everything surrounding us, my cell, the dungeons, the other prisoners and guards that were likely looking on in bewilderment, Thor and his warm, happy grin of his, Asgard; all of it fell away as I was brought back to the memory of my dream. Even though the smell made my nose itch all the way to Niflheim, the smell of Xotic Berry Cheyennes, which seemed to hang on to Elijah like an aura, took me back to all the times we had. The convention, the apartment, the house, Ben and Morgan; even if none of it ever happened, they were probably the greatest memories I could possibly look back on.

Eventually, Eli pulled away and glanced around my cell, "Well, this is a pleasant change of scenery."

I scoffed, "It's a prison cell..."

"I was being sarcastic."

I think I'd missed that the most. Eli's sarcasm, his nonchalant demeanor, his tendency to fret about things just a little bit less than everybody else. If only he'd be allowed to stay here, or better yet, relive the dream of Odin banishing me to Midgard, with or without my magic and abilities, then this moment would be perfect...

But I knew better.

Thor had committed high treason to smuggle Elijah here. In all likelihood, he came here while he was in the middle of work, or sleeping. It was only a matter of time before Odin was made aware of his presence here, if not by Huginn and Muninn, then by that all-seeing eye of his, and I discovered just how accurate I was in my assumption as I saw a figure round a corner in the shadows of the hallways outside of my cell, and the first thing to catch my eye was Gungnir grasped firmly in his hand. My mouth opened to speak, but I believe it was my pride that still kept me from calling him 'father'.

"Odin."

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER!
> 
> I know. It really doesn't make sense. Trust me, in later chapters everything will come full circle.
> 
> So I did want to confirm a few things here, first and foremost being that the second portion of the prologue is a very accurate representation as to what my everyday life is like. The way Ben talks here is how he talks to me on a regular basis. We both agree that it's more fun that way.
> 
> Secondly, "Erai" was not a pathetic attempt at trying to cover my identity. That's the actual nickname I go by when I'm around Ben and Morgan.
> 
> And thirdly, while it might be hard to believe, I am actually this way in real life; everything from the obsessing, to the driving, to the raging. Why did you think I titled this 'Adventures with the Midgardian Fool'?
> 
> The first chapter is where things start to kick off, so stay tuned!
> 
> -BlueRaven 666


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